Shackles and Keys
by Ky II
Summary: Draco has been exiled to the Muggle world, and is at the end of the line. A chance meeting with Harry Potter brings him back into the world of magic, only to realize that Harry's got some serious problems of his own to deal with. HP/DM Slash
1. Prologue

Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, ex-Hogwarts student, ex-heir to the Malfoy fortune, needed money. Muggle money.

Having been literally thrown out of the wizarding world with explicit orders to never return, Draco had been forced to accept the tiny grant that the Ministry had allowed him before he had been sent packing and left to rot in the streets. Stripped of his fortune, of his home, and of his wand, with both his parents in Azkaban and all his friends either dead, imprisoned, or vanished, Draco had had no choice but to rent a tiny little cubicle of a room in a stinking Muggle building and wallow in his misery. Alone. Five years had passed since the war, since he had watched friends and acquaintances killed by the very man whom they had pledged their lives to. If Voldemort could have even been called a man.

Five years had passed, while Draco had watched as his fund slowly disappeared, knowing that one day, he would have no more money to sustain himself with, no more money to live. Not that Draco cared all that much. Draco wanted to die. Draco knew that he _should_ die. Draco knew that he _would_ have died, long ago in Azkaban from a Dementor's Kiss, if not for one single person. Harry Potter. Draco hated Harry Potter with all of his being, for it was Harry Potter who had forced him into this pathetic existence. It was Harry Potter who had spoken out against the Ministry's verdict of his trial, who had insisted that he be given a second chance, who had thought himself compelled to help Draco. Of course, the Ministry could not resist Harry Potter, since he was the Savior, the Vanquisher of Darkness, the Hero of Light, and whatever other nonsensical crap they called him. Draco despised Harry Potter. Draco despised the other man's unrelenting hero complex, his irritating ability to always be _right,_ his need for constant attention, his pity for Draco, and his endless adoring fans.

Draco had often contemplated, in increasingly rare moments of sobriety, that he could just kill himself and end his own pitiful moping. Draco had even tried to commit suicide a few times, from slitting his wrists in a public bathroom to jumping off his apartment building, since he couldn't end it all with a spell, as his wand had been taken away. The attempts never worked, however, since Draco always backed out at the last moment, convincing himself with obvious lies about why he should continue to exist. Draco knew he was a coward, that nobody would even mourn him if he died. But Draco just couldn't do it. And for that, Draco hated himself.

Of course, not that Draco cared about all that right now. In fact, Draco didn't care about much of anything at the moment, as he smiled sluggishly down at the seventh shot of Muggle alcohol that he clutched in his hand. Draco hiccupped before downing the shot in one go, slamming it down on the filthy counter of the sketchy bar in which he sat, wasting his last few dollars so that he could at last have some peace from his wretched state. Lately, it had been Draco's favorite pastime to get stoned on the disgusting Muggle alcohol, which, after the first few unpleasant glasses, burned nicely through his system and made his haunting memories disappear, at least for a few blessed hours.

Draco waved the bartender over, motioning the pimple-faced man to refill his glass. The man sneered at him. "Gotta show me some dough 'fore you get any o' my booze," the unpleasant guy said, obviously in contempt of the wasted man who sat in his bar with filthy clothes and evident stubble. Draco grunted, reaching into his pocket to unearth the last of all the money he had. Once, Draco would have cursed the Muggle for his insolence, or at least punched his lights out. But now, with his wand confiscated and enough alcohol in his system to ensure that he would fall the moment he slid off the barstool, Draco's once-predominant pride gave way to the scrounging up of all the paper bills in his pocket. The bartender, after glancing at the meager pile, snorted and stashed away the cash. "That'll pay for what you've already drunk. You ain't getting' no more 'till you can pay up for it."

Draco growled, but in his wasted state, all he could manage was a groan. The bartender, evidently having had enough, said, "Look, man, if you ain't got any more cash, you might as well get outta my bar and get some, eh?" Draco got off his stool, stumbling against the bar before he caught himself and staggered to the door. His brain was malfunctioning, and his body was just going through mechanical reactions to the commands he heard, from long habit with his father. Draco leaned on the door to push it open, but he misjudged the resistance he thought he would meet, and fell through the opening, crashing into a man carrying some sort of bag who had been walking by on the street. Totally wasted, Draco didn't even care that he had squashed some random guy on the street and fell unconscious; his last thought was that the guy he had crashed into smelled astonishingly familiar.


	2. Waking Up

When Draco woke up, he was in a bed. Not his own bed, in his cramped and smelly Muggle apartment, but a real _wizard _bed, a magnificent four-poster with an ebony frame, emerald green draperies, a forest green duvet, and sheets as white as snow. As Draco looked around the room, which was beautifully decorated entirely in black, white, and shades of green, his memory slowly trickled back into his foggy brain. He remembered getting drunk in the bar he had often visited for the past year, he remembered giving up all the money that he had left, leaving him penniless. He remembered staggering out the door and crashing into somebody, before he passed out from the booze. That did not explain how he was suddenly in an unfamiliar room, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, with the feeling of somebody else's magic nearly buzzing in the air, it was so powerful.

A trickle of panic slid down Draco's spine. Even though it had been years since he had last come into contact with anything from the wizarding community, Draco hadn't lost a bit of his old calculating mind or his inherent sly intelligence. That was how he knew that he was in potential danger. Without his wand, he was practically helpless in a stranger's house, the said stranger's magic humming around him as a constant reminder that his adversary was very powerful, and therefore very dangerous. Draco moved to sit up, but groaned as his head protested with a pounding throb, courtesy of the vast amount of alcohol that he had consumed. Draco's situation was looking bleaker by the moment. Not only was he in another wizard's bed, and in another wizard's house, without a wand or any concrete means to defend himself, he was also incapacitated by the hammering in his head. Though Draco knew that he should die, Draco could not help but cling to his internal instincts of self preservation that he had gained from living his whole life among people who schemed, planned, conspired, and did everything to try and pull others down so they themselves would advance. That was the reason why he had turned to drinking to drown out his sorrows, hoping that one day he would just pass out from all the alcohol and die painlessly in some gutter.

Just when Draco was trying to find out how he was going to manage getting out of the stupid bed without passing out again, a sudden pop had him almost jumping out of his skin, bringing about a fresh round of protestation from his all too delicate head. Blearily, Draco squinted towards the source, his head hurting too much for him to even bother considering that he might be in danger. Draco saw that a house elf had been the source of the sound, having appeared right in the room and at the foot of the bed. Draco was about to question the elf when a glimmer caught his eye. The elf was wearing clothes. Not just any ragged, filthy scraps of cloth pieced together like most house elves, either. This one was wearing a proper suit jacket, complete with a snowy dress shirt underneath and some crisp looking pants. Even more surprising than the clothes however, was that the house elf actually looked happy, something very few house elves ever looked.

"It's good that Master Draco has finally woken up, yes," the house elf said in a high, but not unpleasant, voice. "You be worrying Kreacher what with you're sleeping so long. Kreacher has been ordered to look after Master Draco, yes, and Kreacher being worried why Master Draco didn't wake. But now Master Draco is waked up Kreacher give Master Draco this potion and food." The house elf promptly summoned a tray piled high with toast, jam, eggs, and bacon, complete with a tall glass of fresh orange juice, iced to perfection. Next to the glass was a crystal vial of a silvery liquid, innocently placed on the placemat along with the steaming tray. Draco eyed the potion warily, leaving it in its place, though he ate everything on the plate and drank the entire glass of orange juice after having tasted a bit and decided it not poisoned. Having eaten and drunk, Draco felt substantially better, though he still had a killer headache. The little house elf did not move or speak the entire time Draco was eating, and Draco decided to get some answers out of the little elf before anything else was done.

"You're named Kreacher, right?" The little elf nodded enthusiastically, bobbing his head up and down and making his large ears flap around his head. Draco ignored the movement and continued, "Well, tell me where I am, and who your master is. Also tell me how I got here in your master's house, and why I am here." Draco's voice had taken on his usual sneering drawl, exactly the same as it had been when he had been heir to the Malfoy fortune and the Ice Prince of Slytherin.

The little elf opened his mouth to respond, but just at that moment, a door could be heard opening somewhere else in the house and a voice called out. "Kreacher, I'm home. Could you come help me with all this stuff, please?" Kreacher looked back at Draco, undisguised joy in his luminous eyes, before making a hasty little bow and disappearing, most likely to help the source of the voice with whatever stuff it had been talking about. Draco sat stock still on the bed, barely registering the little elf's disappearance. Though Draco's head still pounded, and a door and walls had muffled the voice, Draco had recognized the voice. It was deep and soft, a soothing baritone that thrummed in his ears after hearing it, a voice full of endless kindness and compassion. It was the voice of Harry Potter, the Savior, and the one person Draco hated more than anyone else in the world.

It was the house elf that had first triggered his suspicions. No other person would give a house elf such proper clothing, or any clothing at all. No other person would elicit such joy and admiration from a house elf that he had seen shining in Kreacher's eyes, that the house elf would continue serving even after it had been set free by its master. Above all, nobody would ever speak to a house elf as Draco had just heard, because the voice had called out to the little elf with respect, like the elf was an equal. It was unheard of, and only one person would ever go so far in his goddamned nobility to treat house elves with courtesy. That person was none other than Harry Potter, the Savor of the wizarding world, and the one that Draco hated more than anything else.

Draco gathered his wits about him and relaxed, forcing his body to obey and his face to turn expressionless, even though he was panicking and completely horrified inside. The last thing Draco wanted was to show Harry Potter any sort of weakness. It had been true ever since his days at Hogwarts, ever since Harry Potter had been the first person to ever have more fame than Draco himself, the one boy he could never best. Draco knew it was childish to continue with the act, since he was freaking homeless and penniless and nobody gave a piss about him at all anymore, but old habits die hard, and Draco's pride had gone through a complete resurrection after learning that he was at the mercy of Potter.

When the door opened, Draco glanced up as if he was the master of the house, and not the other way around. His mask almost broke, though, when he laid eyes on Potter. Draco could not stop the small gasp that escaped him, though Potter, with all his usual sharpness of observation, failed to notice. Schooling his features into a languid expression before Draco could reveal anything else about what he was feeling, Draco leaned back and lounged on the bed despite his hangover. Draco sneered at the man in the doorway. "So we meet again, Potter," he spat with malice.

Harry Potter stood in the doorway. After five years, Draco was surprised to see that Potter had grown, probably equal in height as himself now, he thought. Potter was certainly more muscular, and his face had grown into his rugged features and he was less bony, making him a very lean, attractive twenty-two year old man. The eyes, though, Draco noticed at once, were still the same. A brilliant luminous green, the eyes were both gentle and determined, and were so clear that you could read everything the man was thinking like a book just by looking at him. They pierced Draco as if they could see through to his soul, and Draco involuntarily gave a soft shudder, though not from fear. What struck Draco most, however, even more than the body or the gaze, was the _magic._ It was tangible as soon as Potter opened the door. Draco could feel it filling the room, pressing against him, buzzing on his skin, humming in his ears. His hair even shifted a bit, as if from a breeze. Draco had never known such raw, leashed power, even greater than the aura of Voldemort himself. Potter's presence was commanding and Draco couldn't take his eyes off the man.

Harry, though, didn't seem to notice. "Malfoy," he said in greeting. Looking over at Draco's breakfast tray, left on the bedside table, he frowned. "You didn't drink the potion."

Though it wasn't a question, Draco felt compelled to answer, opening his mouth and feeling the magic slip inside. Draco was surprised to discover that Potter's magic also had a _taste, _something he had never though possible before. It tasted of grass, and spring, and the smell of the air after rain. "Do you think I'm an idiot? No, of course not. Who knows what you might've slipped in there." Draco had to stop himself from licking his lips, just to taste that intoxicating magic again.

Though Draco had wanted to rile Harry up a bit with his comment, just like he had done back before the war had changed all their lives, so that his internal nerves would settle down a bit from the regularity of giving and receiving cutting remarks, Harry wasn't taking the bait. The insult registered, Draco saw it in Harry's eyes, but it seemed that with the five years that had passed, Harry's quick temper had cooled somewhat. Or at least Harry had learned to control it better. Draco was almost disappointed when he found out that Harry was a different person now, not the same boy who he had mocked and had mocked him back. Draco shook his head and shoved away the thought. He didn't care that Harry was different, that he didn't know the man anymore.

Harry's frown deepened. "It's nothing but a simple pain potion to help your headache. I imagine that it's not easy to act so proud when you've got a pounding head after all that alcohol." With a smile, Harry walked up next to the bed Draco sat in and held out the potion to him. The buzzing of his magical presence increased against Draco's skin with his proximity, until Draco could have sworn that there were sparks traveling up and down his arms. When Draco still looked unsatisfied at the potion being held out to him, while trying to ignore the effect the magic aura had on him, Harry rolled his eyes. "Still the same, aren't we, Malfoy?" Harry uncorked the vial and raised it to his lips, taking a small swallow of the potion so that half remained. "There. Satisfied? I'm not dead, so you should be fine."

Draco reluctantly took the vial and downed the contents in one gulp, furiously trying not to think how self-conscious he was around the other man, and about how Harry's lips had just before touched the same spot where Draco's were. Immediately, Draco could feel his hangover disappear, leaving him feeling refreshed and alert. Though Draco refused to acknowledge any of it to Harry.

After a tense silence, in which Draco refused to look at Harry, Kreacher the house elf appeared with a pop. "Master Harry, sir, Kreacher has put away the groceries, yes, and Kreacher has also set up the bath like Master asked. Will that be all now, Master Harry?"

Harry turned to face Kreacher, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief that the piercing green gaze was no longer pinning him in place, though the magic still hummed around him. "Oh, Kreacher. Thank you for all your help. Yes, that's all for now. I don't know what I would do without you." Smiling at the praise, Kreacher bowed deeply to Harry before disappearing again with a pop. Harry turned back to Draco, smiling a little at the little house elf's happiness. Draco glanced up, and was amazed at how gentle and warm the green eyes looked. They were a soothing sea green, calm and deep. At Hogwarts, Draco had only ever seen Harry when he was angry. Draco had never even thought about how other emotions could change the very hue of those emerald eyes.

"Malfoy, come on. You need a bath, and I'm sure you heard Kreacher just say that it's ready. Don't worry, the water isn't poisoned or anything." Harry smiled and held out a hand to Draco. Draco just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, staying resolutely in the bed.

"And why should I listen to you?" Draco sneered.

Harry seemed at a loss, and Draco inwardly cringed at all the all to valid responses Harry could say. He was in Harry's house, first of all, and he was an exiled wizard with no wand, homeless and penniless. Harry was also so ridiculously powerful that Draco would be powerless to do anything against him. Should Harry have wanted it, Harry could do anything to him and nobody would ever protest. Besides, Draco knew that he was filthy, and that he smelled, as well. Draco hoped with all his remaining pride that Harry would not remark upon this, but doubted that the other man could resist such a perfect chance to mock him.

Harry, though, seemed as if he had no desire to mock Draco, or to bring up any of the other reasons why Draco should do as he said. Harry sighed, and seemed to resign himself to his stubborn guest. "Fine, Malfoy. You don't have to listen to me. I just thought that you might have wanted a bath, and maybe some clean clothes. Since you don't seem to be interested, I'll just leave. Feel free to get up whenever you wish. I'll be downstairs." Harry walked to the door, and Draco had to squash the completely unreasonable impulse to call him back. After having been alone in the Muggle world for so long, even Draco Malfoy wanted some company. Even though the company was none other than Harry Potter himself.

At the door, though, Harry stopped with the door half open. "Just so you know," he said over his shoulder, his green eyes gleaming mischievously, "the bathroom is two doors down the hall and to the left. Towels have already been prepared. If you feel inclined to do so, you can wear my clothes which you can find in that closet in the corner." Harry gestured to the green and white closet next to the window. "Of course, I'm just saying. You don't have to do anything I suggest, and can sit in bed for the whole day if you want." Before Draco had time to reply with an insult, Harry had swept out of the room, gently shutting the door behind him, taking his infuriatingly intoxicating magic with him.


	3. Houses and Wands

Draco slowly trudged down the stairs, fingering the sleeves of the soft but well-worn navy shirt that he had pulled on, along with some comfortable black slacks. Draco took a breath, inhaling the scent of Potter from his clothing; a clean, fresh smell, though with a hint of something musky and alluring. Even Potter's clothes held a remnant spark of his magical presence, and had sparked when Draco had pulled them on. Though he would never admit it to Potter, the bath had been heavenly, and he had just sat inside and soaked for half an hour. Draco could not remember the last time he had taken a real bath, instead of those Muggle showers that were neither effective nor comforting. Draco sighed. It seemed that with every breath he took, he ended up owing Potter that much more. It was all because of the man and his blasted kindness. There had to be at least some flaws in Potter, but with the disappearance of the man's quick temper, Draco was hard-pressed to think of any others besides the man being a total git.

Draco found himself walking down a corridor to emerge in a brightly lit sitting room, nicely decorated with a mix of antique furniture and modern magical appliances. The room was bathed in sunlight, coming from two large windows on one wall. Potter sat in a large, comfortable looking armchair beside the fireplace, reading some papers and shuffling through pieces of parchment, taking notes with a quill. Draco choked when he saw Potter. The man was sitting directly opposite the light coming from the windows, so that the light enhanced his features and he seemed to be glowing with warmth. His magic hovered protectively like a blanket around him, causing the air around Potter to waver as if he was seen through a heat haze. The word beautiful sneaked into Draco's mind, but he locked up the thought and threw it into a mental chasm. Draco Malfoy did not use the word beautiful to apply to anyone but himself, of course. It was ridiculous to think that he would believe another, especially another _man, _beautiful.

Harry looked up at that moment, and Draco was struck again with the clarity of those eyes, almost like gemstones in their brilliance. The light illuminated the man's entire face, making him seem like he was some spirit of the light that would disappear should Draco approach. Draco shook his head to dispel the illusion, and he forced himself to focus. It was nothing but Harry Potter sitting in a bright room with his ridiculously strong magic.

"Good afternoon, Draco. I see you have deemed this house worthy of your magnanimous presence at last." The words were said teasingly, with no ill intent. Mirth shone through Harry's eyes, making them sparkle in the sunlight.

Draco sneered, a self-defense mechanism that he had kept with him since he was a boy. "You should be honored. Not many can boast of having a Malfoy as a guest." The moment he said it he internally cursed himself. He was an exiled wizard, homeless, penniless, with nobody who cared at all about him in the world. The comeback may have been real and cutting before the war, but now, it did nothing but make him look foolish.

Potter though, Draco noticed, ignored the comment and refrained from telling him that it was completely out of his own kindness that Draco could even be there, clean and refreshed, at all. Instead, he said, "Well, since you have decided to come downstairs, you might as well sit down instead of hovering about in the doorway." Potter gestured to a couch opposite his armchair, which Draco hesitantly sat in. The couch was luxurious, much different from the wooden chair that was all Draco had to sit on back at his own tiny flat. Not his flat any more, Draco reminded himself. The landlord had probably sold it already, since Draco's rent was three months overdue.

Seeming not to notice Draco's discomfort, Potter continued. "Well, Malfoy, I supposed we have some things that we should probably discuss-"

"Why am I here?" Draco asked abruptly, interrupting Potter. Potter didn't seem to mind, however, and answered promptly in his quiet voice.

"You are here, Malfoy, because as I was walking down the street this morning, on my way to work, I passed by a dreary looking pub. Now, normally, I don't notice or go to any pubs, be it Muggle or Wizard, but in front of this particular pub, somebody fell through the door and crashed into me." Potter grinned at the look of horror spreading across Draco's face. "You can imagine my surprise when I saw that it was you, Malfoy. I knew that you had been exiled from the wizarding world, but I must admit I was quite shocked to see you like that, as our first meeting since the trials, no less. So I dragged your body into an alley where nobody could see us, since you had caused quite a ruckus on the street, and I Disapparated us here, and you know the rest."

Draco maintained an outer expression of sneering contempt, but on the inside he was writhing with embarrassment. For Potter to see him like that, totally wasted and filthy, having not bathed for at least a week, was the worst thing that he could possibly imagine to happen to him. Draco could feel Potter's magic curl with amusement around the room, and could sense the amused eyes directed at him, now a light green color as they were tinged with humor. Trying to divert Potter's thoughts from the incident, Draco demanded, "So why did you bring me here? You could've just let me die in the alley like the filth I am, so why did you bring me here? You're probably trying to rub it in that I'm nothing compared with the Golden Boy anymore, right?"

Draco was surprised at the flicker of sadness that passed through those clear green eyes, darkening them just a fraction. "No, Draco, you aren't filth, and I am not trying to rub anything in. I just wanted to help you, just at least a little, since I couldn't help you back during the war, when I couldn't help you resist Voldemort's evil. That's all."

Draco felt a surge of anger. "Don't you dare," he hissed, "Try and blame yourself for what I did. I did it because I had no choice, and it was never your fault. So you might as well go along and play hero some more, since I don't need any of your pity." What the hell was with Potter and his fucking hero-complex? To think that Potter even thought of a way to make what happened to him turn out as his own fault. What was wrong with the man? Didn't he _ever_ do anything selfish, just because he wanted to?

Potter looked like he was about to argue, but with a look at Draco he dropped the subject. That shocked Draco right out of his anger. He knew that Potter was intelligent, perceptive, kind, and honest to a fault, but tact was not something he often associated with Gryffindors.

After a brief silence, Potter proceeded back to his original intention. "Anyways, as I was saying before, we have some things that we need to discuss, now that you know everything that happened. After I brought you here, I checked on why you were in that pub completely wasted, since it's not something I would expect you of all people to normally be doing. I found out that you have no money, and that your landlord sold your apartment this morning at 11:38 am. Which, in my opinion, is slightly a problem for you, since you have no place to stay and no money to get a place."

Draco's brain was going to burst from all the embarrassment. So Potter knew everything. Draco was surprised that the man hadn't burst out laughing yet, since that was what he would do should he have been in Potter's place, but he reasoned that the man's hero-complex probably prevented him from doing anything so childish. For once Draco was glad that Potter was who he was; at least since it stopped him from laughing his arse off from Draco's current predicament.

"So what? What do you care about my problems, Potter?" Draco drawled, venom clear in his voice. Potter was undaunted, and forged straight ahead.

"Well, I was thinking that I could offer you a place to stay here, should you wish."

Draco choked. Of all the harebrained ideas that had ever occurred to Potter, this was probably the most idiotic one yet. "What, so you're gonna voluntarily share your house with me, of all people? Genius, Potter. We're gonna get along dandily. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor living together? Won't that end well? Even with the noble Gryffindor mindset, I would never have thought that a Gryffindor would ever voluntarily offer a Slytherin any help."

If Potter was offended, he didn't show it. "Sorry, Malfoy, but I guess I should've made some things clearer first. You may think you know everything about Gryffindors, but you obviously don't know a lot about me. And, um, well, you see," Potter seemed to be uncomfortable for the first time, tugging at his wild mess of hair with fingers stained with ink from the notes he was taking on his mysterious pile of papers. "Well, actually, I don't really live here."

Draco shoved away the pang of disappointment that immediately arose. He must have been really lonely, he reasoned, for him to sink so low as to want Potter's company. "So whose house is this?" Draco asked, hiding his emotions behind his usual mask.

Potter looked startled, as if he didn't expect Draco to have asked that. The expression made his eyes widen and his lips to part slightly. Draco tore his eyes away from the bewitching depths of the green gaze and the soft pink of those perfect lips, concentrating instead on his pale fingers clasped tightly in his lap.

"Well, actually, Malfoy, this is my house, but I don't live here. I have another house where I usually stay, a third in a different place, and a fourth one which is my secret hideaway, of sorts. I usually visit this place, around three times a month, so that I can see if Kreacher is doing ok and everything. So if you stay here, we won't actually be living together."

"Oh." Draco couldn't think of anything else to say. Potter was offering him a whole house, plus a house elf, all to himself for nothing in return. The idea was almost ludicrous, as nobody in their right mind would do anything of the sort, especially not for somebody who used to be their childhood enemy.

"Well, you don't have to accept. The doors aren't locked or anything, so you can leave at any time. I'm just saying, you're welcome to stay here if you want, for as long as you want." Potter smiled, uncertainty evident in his eyes. Draco huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. The man was too saintly for his own good. One day it would stab him in the back. But Draco could not help but feel relief and gratitude to Potter, even though he would rather die by being mauled by a hippogriff than admit it.

"Well, if you choose to accept, then here's the key to the house. This is number 12 Grimmauld Place, by the way. It's Sirius' old house, and it's the only thing I have to remember him by." Grief over his godfather's death darkened Potter's eyes for a moment, before being replaced by the usual gentle warmth as Potter held up a key and placed it on the coffee table that separated him and Draco. Draco could not help but wonder exactly how many people Potter mourned, all because of the doings of one evil wizard. One evil wizard that Draco himself had helped.

Draco was silent, looking down at his tightly clasped fingers that were cutting off his own circulation. He was suppressing the feeling of wanting to comfort Potter, at the same time wallowing in self-hate at what he had done to help Voldemort achieve his goals. Draco finally understood the full meaning behind Potter's fame, and why all wizards worshipped him. It was because by getting rid of Voldemort, Potter had ensured that they would all be safe, without the danger of having loved ones killed by an unstoppable evil. By killing Voldemort, Potter had given them all a future.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" Potter's voice dragged Draco back from the swirl of his thoughts. Draco nodded shakily, not trusting his voice. Potter smiled at him, a smile brighter than the sunshine that still illuminated his face. "Well, since we meet again after five years, we might as well try to get along, right? Let's leave the past alone, and try to be friends in the present." So saying, Potter offered Draco a hand. "When you offered me your hand at the start of our first year at Hogwarts, I thought you were the most pompous, arrogant git that ever walked the earth. I still think that now, but I find that you're just a bit more bearable." Potter laughed at Draco's glare, a deep sound full of mirth, and completely breathtaking. Draco could feel the vibration of the laugh in the magic around him, and something warm curled in his stomach, making him forget why he was glaring in the first place. "I'm just kidding!" Potter continued, oblivious. "Come on Malfoy, let's be friends. We can't very well be enemies when you might decide to live in my house."

Draco rolled his eyes, but took the offered hand anyways. He was surprised that Potter's hand was so warm, almost hot against his ice-cold hands. Draco looked into Potter's eyes, and saw happiness in their depths. All at once Draco felt inordinately pleased with himself for making Potter have that expression. Something must have showed on his face, because, after letting go of Draco's hand, which was slightly disappointing for Draco, Potter remarked, "Well, Malfoy, I could have sworn that you almost smiled right then. Are you that happy that we're friends?" Potter laughed at Draco's blank expression, while Draco cursed himself for letting Potter get so close to the truth.

"Oh, that's right, Malfoy. I almost forgot. I'll be right back." Potter got up in a rush, forgetting that he still had a pile of documents in his lap and scrambling his papers all over the floor. "Oops," Potter almost blushed. Draco snorted. Potter may have turned more attractive and less quick to argue, it seemed that he was still the same clumsy boy he had always been. But with a wave of his hand, Potter magically organized the papers into a neat pile on the coffee table instantly, before disappearing down the hall. Draco was left with the unnerving feeling of powerlessness. With such a casual display of power, Potter had unknowingly made Draco realize his own weakness. Only very few wizards and witches were able to practice wandless magic, and of the select few only a handful would ever be able to do it with such accuracy that Potter had displayed. Draco remembered again the buzzing of the wards and the almost oppressing magical aura around Potter, which still hummed in his subconscious. Even though Potter seemed mild and complacent, Draco shuddered at all the raw power that he was able to wield.

Potter was back, plopping down in his chair with one hand behind his back. His eyes were shining with excitement, like a little kid at Christmastime. "Malfoy, you would not _believe_ this, and you are possible going to freak out. I had kept it, and I just remembered that I still had it when you crashed into me this morning. It'll be my first gift to you, then. Ok, close your eyes."

Draco eyed Potter suspiciously, but did as he was told after seeing that he had no choice. Though he did keep his eyes cracked open a tiny bit, so that he could peer through his lashes and see if Potter was up to something suspicious.

Potter stood and walked around the coffee table, before squatting down in front of Draco. Potter took his hand out from behind his back, and placed a cool, thin rod between Draco's fingers. Draco could not see the item clearly, since his eyes were mostly closed, but he could see Potter's face just inches from his own. "Ok, open your eyes," Potter whispered. Draco opened them and his heart started pounding with their close proximity. If he just leaned forward a bit, he could kiss those perfectly moist lips, which were turned up in a smile of victory.

"So? Aren't you happy?" Potter asked, after Draco just stared at the man for a while. Shaking his head a little to dispel the thoughts, Draco looked down at the thing Potter had given him. He jerked when he realized what it was.

In his hands, gleaming and looking as if it had never been gone, was his wand.


	4. Time Restarts

Draco stared at the familiar item, at the cool wood beneath his fingers. It was his wand. Tears pooled in Draco's eyes, and he furiously wiped them away. He looked up to say something to Potter, though he didn't know what, but found that he was alone. Potter had disappeared, taking his pile of papers with him, leaving him alone with his wand in a gradually darkening room as the sun set towards evening.

Draco looked around, calling out softly for Potter, hesitant to break the silence that had settled over the house. When nobody answered, he tried calling for Kreacher. The house elf appeared, bowing. "What does Master Draco be needing Kreacher to do for him?" Kreacher asked.

Draco hesitated, not sure whether the house elf would refuse to answer him or not, but asked, "Where did Potter go?"

"Master Harry Disapparated to go to his home, Master Draco. It be getting late and Master Harry says that he should be getting home. Master Harry told Kreacher to do anything Master Draco asks, yes, so Kreacher be answering Master Draco's questions." The house elf was evidently proud that Potter had trusted him to take care of Draco. But the elf wasn't finished yet.

"Master Harry tells Kreacher to tell Master Draco that he has broken the restraints and trackers on Master Draco's wand, yes, so Master Draco will be able to cast any spells without worry that the Ministry will be knowing. Master Harry also be saying that Master Draco can go wherever he likes in the house, except Master Harry's own bedroom which is the door at the end of the third floor hallway." Kreacher nodded to show that he was finished with all of the instructions Potter had left him to pass on, and disappeared again with a faint pop.

Draco nodded slowly. He was secretly glad that Potter had left right after giving him his wand, so that Potter wouldn't see how much it meant to him. Having grown up as a Malfoy and had been sorted into Slytherin, Draco was used to not letting any one see his emotions. The last time anyone had seen him cry was… was in sixth year when Potter had seen him crying in the boy's bathroom, when he was terrified and angry with Voldemort, with Dumbledore, with Snape, and with Potter himself. Draco clutched at Potter's shirt that he wore, knowing that the faint white lines of the Sectumsempra still marred his skin, and feeling as if it was Potter's mark on him, claiming him, showing the entire world that Draco's body belonged to Harry Potter.

That thought caused an almost immediate reaction in Draco, and he closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch, groaning as his erection hardened until it was almost painful in its intensity. Draco moaned softly as he imagined Potter on top of him, smiling at him, his beautiful green eyes blind with desire and his magic exploding around them both…

Draco opened his eyes and sharply shook his head, thinking the most mundane thoughts he could, such as the feeling of being totally wasted on alcohol, and sat on the couch willing his arousal away. Draco scolded himself. He and Potter had been childhood enemies, and they both hated each other to bits. So he hasn't seen Potter in a long time and the man had become way too attractive for his own good, and Potter had been the first person to offer him genuine kindness in, well, probably in his whole life. That didn't mean he should be fantasizing about the guy and getting heated up over it, especially since it had been less than a day since Potter had even realized that he still existed. Potter had just announced them as friends. That was all Draco wanted or needed, and he was definitely not going to think any more about Potter's lips or his eyes, or the warmth of his hand.

Draco stood up in a hurry, scowling. Even when Potter wasn't there, he still had the uncanny knack to make Draco angry. Draco stormed out of the sitting room, stomping down a hallway and not caring at all where he was going, as long as it worked off some of his anger. Draco knew that he was in desperate need of getting laid, since even _Potter _had turned him on. After stomping up and down the whole house for ten minutes, Draco found himself at the end of a long corridor, in front of a door, panting from his exertions.

It finally occurred to Draco that the door he stood in front of was different from all the others. In what way, though, Draco couldn't say. It was just the odd feeling that every time Draco focused on the door, the door seemed to waver, shattering his concentration and making him wonder why he wanted to see what was beyond the door. After several more tries, which were all unsuccessful, Draco scowled and was about to turn away. With a jolt, Draco realized that the door was charmed and warded, so that anyone who wanted to go through the door would forget why they wanted to and go away. The magic was very strong, though, because even though Draco knew the charm was there, he still had trouble focusing on it, which was very rare and indicated a very powerful wizard had cast the spell.

Well, Draco reasoned, of course a very powerful wizard had cast the spell. This was Harry bloody Potter's house, after all. It was to be expected. "Kreacher," Draco called. The elf popped up beside him instantly. The hallway was a bit dark, so Draco lit his wand with a muttered "Lumos," before turning to address the elf. "Which room is this, and do you know why it is charmed and warded?"

The elf glanced at the door and gulped. "Yes, Master Draco. This being Master Harry's own room, yes, and Master Harry be wanting it private, yes." Kreacher obviously knew more than what he was saying, though, from the way he was eyeing the door with a mixture of sadness and pain. "Master Harry be wanting it private," the elf whispered again, before popping away.

Draco looked at the door again, curiosity burning in him, but knew that Potter would most likely kick him out of the house if he found out that Draco had been inside his private room. But it was strange, Draco though, that Potter would hide something so important that he would cast such powerful spells to make sure that nobody saw. It didn't seem like something Potter would do. Though Draco doubted that, even if he really wanted to and with his wand, he could actually break the locks on the door. Draco looked down again at the lighted wand in his hand, so familiar and yet so strange. Draco knew that with the five years he had spent in the Muggle world, his power had greatly diminished. Draco thought back again at the ease with which Potter had used wandless magic, and Draco huffed. Stalking back down and finding the kitchen, Draco vowed that he would practice his magic until it was once again a power to be reckoned with.

Upon entering the kitchen, Kreacher popped up again right beside Draco, making him jump slightly, as he was used to being completely alone. "What does Master Draco be needing in the kitchen, now?" Kreacher asked anxiously, rubbing his hands together in nervousness. "If Master Draco be wanting dinner, Kreacher can make it while Master Draco be resting."

Draco frowned. "Why do you call me Master Draco, Kreacher?" he asked. It was uncommon for house elves to call any but their owners 'Master', and most house elves just called visitors or guests 'sir' or 'ma'am'. Being called 'Master' by a house elf meant that the elf would obey the person unconditionally because they were its owner, or that the actual owner trusted the person enough that they would let their elf obey orders that came from the person.

"Master Harry be saying Kreacher should call Master Draco 'Master Draco', yes. Master Harry be saying Master Draco is the special guest, and Kreacher should obey and help Master Draco." The elf smiled again, showing how much it respected 'Master Harry'. Draco could almost feel a smile crack out on his face, but he controlled himself. Draco had always known how much house elves loved Potter, ever since in second year when Potter had even managed to trick his father out of is personal house elf.

But Draco was even more shocked that Harry had told Kreacher to obey him as well. Being allowed to command another's house elf was a supreme gesture of trust and friendship, and was almost unheard of between two people who were not family. It was another example of how Potter's blasted kindness would stab him in the back one day, since Potter kept on throwing his unconditional trust around, but Draco could not help but feel happy at the gesture.

"Well, Kreacher, I think I'll try cooking some dinner myself. Do you mind helping me?" Draco asked, before he caught himself. He was talking to a freaking house elf, for Christ's sake. There was no need to be so goddamn polite. But, reflected Draco, if he was nice to Kreacher, Potter would probably be happy. Of course, Draco was only trying to keep Potter happy because Draco owed the other man so much. That was all. Glad that he had found a reasonable excuse, Draco went to work cooking, with Kreacher passing him ingredients and the like. After five years of no magic, Draco had learned to cook quite well. Now, with his wand back in his hand, he could almost qualify as a gourmet chef. Draco internally smiled to himself, thinking of how surprised Potter would be when he learned that Draco knew how to cook.

During dinner, it occurred to Draco to ask the house elf when Potter would be back. "Well, Master Draco, today it being Wednesday, so Master Harry will be back on the Saturday after the next. Master Harry be visiting three times a month, yes, on the first Wednesday, the third Saturday, and the last Sunday. Master Harry be very busy with his work, yes, and his personal matters as well." The elf nodded to show that Potter was indeed very busy.

Draco quashed a flicker of disappointment that he would have to wait for more than two whole weeks before Potter would return. Instead, he focused on his delectable dinner, savoring each bite and congratulating himself. The grilled fish filet and string beans had turned out even better than he had hoped, and Draco knew that it was a job well done indeed. Draco had even offered some of the fish to Kreacher, out of desperation for some company. But even though the elf had refused, saying that it was not proper, the elf had stayed by Draco, chattering mindlessly about 'Master Harry' and everything he had done for the elf.

That was when Draco had a thought. Since he was staying in Potter's house, he might as well try and learn more about the man, other than what was already known to almost everybody in the wizarding world. "So, Kreacher, tell me more about Potter," Draco said after he had finished his dinner and magically cleaned the plates. He was glad that he didn't have to manually wash the dishes anymore, something he had previously hated to do, despite how much he liked making food.

"What does Master Draco be wanting to know about?" Kreacher asked, evidently happy that he could continue talking about 'Master Harry'.

Draco shrugged, considering. "Well, what about the rest of the Golden Trio? What happened to the other two?" Seeing Kreacher's confusion, Draco elaborated. "What happened to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger? Are they and Potter still friends?"

Kreacher's eyes became shadowed, and he replied, "The blood-traitor be no friend of Master Harry's no more, Master Draco. Master Harry tries everything to help the blood-traitor, but he spurns Master Harry's generosity and kindness, and insults and blames him. The blood-traitor be no friend of Master Harry's, Master Draco, and any mention of him causes Master Harry pain."

Draco wanted to ask the elf to explain more, but he knew that it was futile. House elves kept their master's secrets with a passion, and would never say more than they deemed proper, no matter what threats or bribes were given. Kreacher had obviously said as much as he would, and Draco resolved to have Potter tell him the rest when he came. "Well, then what about Granger, then?"

Kreacher was evidently relieved that Draco hadn't questioned further. "The Mudblood stays Master Harry's friend, Master Draco, and she comes by sometimes. The Mudblood be working in the Ministry's Department of Magical Archives, and she be the head of the department. The Mudblood is kind to Kreacher, but she be a Mudblood and Kreacher thinks that Master Harry deserves better friends, yes."

Another thought occurred to Draco, at the mention of Granger's job at the Ministry. "Then what does Potter do for a job?"

"Master Harry be working as an Auror, Master Draco. Master Harry be the best Auror in the Department, which is why Master Harry be busy all the time, yes."

Draco nodded. He supposed it made sense. Potter had always wanted to become an Auror, even when they were in school. Draco supposed that it was the constant hero-complex of his that made him want to save people all the time. But in a way, Draco thought that being an Auror fit Potter's personality really well. Potter was strong enough and smart enough to actually get the bad guys, but was patient and kind enough to help the victims start to recover. Just like Potter had done with him, a voice whispered in his head. Draco pushed away the thought.

"What about," Draco almost blushed, but he maintained his usual icy demeanor with iron will and self control, "What about marriage? Is Potter married? To that Weaslette, perhaps?"

Draco held his breath as Kreacher eyed him with some curiosity, but was relieved when the house elf decided not to question him, instead answering, "Yes, Master Harry is being married." Draco nearly choked on his own spit, before the elf continued, unperturbed, "But Master Harry be having troubles with the blood-traitor's sister as a wife, especially now since it happened."

"After what happened?" Draco asked, barely able to disguise his curiosity and his burning need to _know._

Kreacher shook his head, his ears making flapping sounds. "Kreacher can't answer, oh no. Master Draco will need to be asking Master Harry for that."

Draco resisted the urge to strangle the elf, knowing that it would do no good. Instead, sighing, he decided that he would go to sleep. After bidding Kreacher goodnight, Draco made his way back to the bedroom he had woken up in – his bedroom – on the second floor. Shutting the door behind him, Draco sighed. If anybody had told him before the war that he would be living in Harry Potter's house, wearing Harry Potter's clothes, and wanting to know more about Harry Potter himself, the younger him would have probably cursed the speaker without a thought.

Now, five years after the war, Draco knew that everything had changed. Though he himself was still spoiled, selfish, calculating, and generally not a nice person, Harry Potter had changed so much, and so had the people around him. Draco felt as if he had been frozen in time for the five years that he had spent in the Muggle world, as he had done nothing but wallow in self-pity and had lived in apathy. Only now, that Harry Potter had come back into his life like an unstoppable comet and had caused the return of his wand and a place to stay, did Draco feel time move again, and he himself begin to change.


	5. A Hero's Life

Draco spent the next two weeks exploring the house, seeking out all the nooks and crannies that were hidden among the beautifully decorated rooms. Draco saw that even though Potter himself was not what one would call immaculate and perfectly dressed, Potter had an almost astonishing affinity with interior design. Though the house itself was dark and gloomy, Potter had been able to add enough light and brightness to the entire place that the dark and light contrasted spectacularly. Potter had even added magical windows to every room, since it was impossible for a window to be in a wall that Draco knew had an adjoining room on the other side. With the addition of these windows and seemingly natural light, every room was able to have a glowing impression without the use of candles or magically created light.

Draco's favorite was the library. It was a massive place, magically made larger until it was about the size of a cathedral. The entire walls were covered with bookshelves, filled with books of every shape and size, both Muggle and wizard. One wall was covered with grand, arched windows, letting in sunlight and admitting a view of a beautiful field of wildflowers. The windows and the size of the room were magical, of course, but the effect was astounding. A huge fireplace occupied the only wall space that was not taken by bookshelves or windows, and comfortable chairs and couches were arranged neatly around the fireplace. The inside of the library was cool, and the magically created stone that lined the walls made every sound echo. It was a room that made Draco feel as if he could stay there forever, reading the numerous tomes until the world itself came to an end.

But in the two weeks when he had the house to himself, excepting Kreacher, of course, Draco never once found anything that gave him any insight to Harry Potter, the person. Even in the study, where Harry kept a bunch of papers and folders containing newspaper clippings of sightings of ex-Death Eaters and files about the Auror cases that he had completed, there were never any books lying around that would tell Draco what Harry liked to read, nor any pictures of Harry with his friends. It seemed as if, though it was Harry's house, Harry had purposefully made it so that if anybody came to the house, they wouldn't be able to learn anything about him. As Draco's searches proved futile, Draco wondered what could possibly have made the honest, almost careless Harry turn so guarded and subtly concealing.

Since Kreacher never stopped Draco from going anywhere within the house, except for Harry's room, of course, Draco found that he felt somehow linked to Harry as he discovered more of his house. It was just little clues, such as Harry enjoyed to sit in armchairs by a fireplace, since many of the rooms contained such chairs next to a large fireplace. But it was a little bit of insight on the private life of the wizarding world's greatest celebrity, and Draco was eager to find as many clues as he could. Draco even felt some of his old hate for the man disappearing, to be replaced with a grudging respect and something akin to acceptance. Draco smiled, internally of course. Draco couldn't help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if he had not been such a git in first year when he had offered to be Harry's friend, and if Harry had accepted his offer back at the start of their first year at Hogwarts.

Draco found himself many times wandering until he was standing in front of the door to Harry's room, so that he stood in corridor, trying to fix his attention on the door itself, which proved to be a very mind-absorbing and fruitless exercise. In the two weeks that Draco spent by himself in number 12 Grimmauld Place, Draco spent hours just gazing at the door, willing himself to try and open it to see what lay beyond. Draco, having a Slytherin mindset, was naturally curious, and the fact that he had been told _not_ to go into the room just made him want to even more. But as the two weeks passed, Draco did not try even once to open the door that led to Harry's room, even though there was the fact that had he tried, the door's wards would just have repelled him away. Draco found that he valued Harry's trust more than his own need to sate his curiosity. Finding this thought disturbing, as Draco had never cared about anyone more than himself, Draco pushed all thoughts of the room's hidden secrets out of his mind, and concentrated instead on trying to focus on the door itself.

On Saturday morning, the day that Harry was supposed to come, Draco found himself adjusting his hair in the bathroom mirror. Draco had always been a vain man, but when he caught himself actually wondering if Harry would like his hair, Draco snorted in disgust with himself and shook his head, messing up his previously immaculate blond hair so that random strands stuck out from his head. Draco knew that he was lonely, but he didn't think that he'd ever stoop so far as to try and make a good impression on someone he had previously _hated_, for goddamn's sake.

Going down to breakfast, he was practically jittery with nerves and anticipation. Draco had secretly been looking forward to the day Harry would return for the entire two and a half weeks since he had first come to the house, and now that the day had come Draco couldn't sit still. Down in the kitchen, Draco found that Kreacher had prepared a delectable breakfast for him, with pancakes, fresh fruit, juice, and warm rolls. Draco could hardly eat any of it, taking nervous bites from his bowl of fruit. Draco cast a tempus charm to remind him of the time, and as the hour slid gradually from ten to eleven, Draco couldn't stand the suspense any longer. Calling for Kreacher, who appeared instantly by his side, Draco asked, "You said Harry was coming today, right Kreacher?"

The elf nodded enthusiastically, before giving Draco a sunny smile. "Yes, Master Draco. Master Harry be coming home today, and Master Harry has even owled Kreacher to say that he would be staying for a couple of days."

Draco suppressed a brief surge of annoyance that Harry had owled Kreacher instead of himself. "So when is he going to come?" Draco almost yelled, his exasperation and worn nerves finally tipping him over the edge. At his raised voice, Kreacher's eyes widened and he hurriedly disappeared with a faint pop.

"Are you expecting someone today?"

Draco whirled around to see Harry himself walking through the door to the kitchen, resplendent in his complete Auror robes, his necktie loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned so that Draco was treated to tantalizing glimpses of smooth flesh and a collarbone. Draco swallowed and hurriedly looked away, cursing himself for raising his voice. Choosing to ignore Harry's question, Draco huffed and continued to play with his half finished breakfast. As soon as Harry was in the room, Draco felt the familiar sense of magic curling around his body and everything in the room. Draco breathed in the fresh, earthy taste of the magic, steadying himself once again.

Harry walked around the table and sank down into the chair opposite Draco, groaning as he leaned back and closed his eyes. Draco examined the man sitting opposite him. For the first time Draco saw the deathly pale hue of Harry's skin, and the purple bruises under his eyes, signifying that Harry hadn't slept at all for at least a couple of days. A sudden impulse to touch the man seized Draco, and he had to clutch his orange-juice glass tightly in his hands to make sure he wouldn't suddenly do something stupid.

After sitting in silence for a few moments, Draco felt compelled to break the stillness, at least to quell his rising agitation. "You look like a ghost, Harry. Care to fill me in?" Draco sneered at the man opposite him, though he knew that his remark held nothing of its usual frostiness. It seemed that living in Harry's house had softened him somewhat.

Harry opened his eyes, staring at Draco with something like surprise in his eyes. "What? Am I just a simple charity-case for you that I don't even deserve to know what's going on?" Draco wondered if Harry really didn't want to tell him. It would make sense, in a way, since Draco was just a temporary houseguest, and had nothing to do with Harry's actual life. A sudden urge to cry gripped him, and Draco stared intently at the bottom of his orange juice glass, willing the completely unreasonable emotion away.

"Malfoy," Harry said with such disbelief that Draco looked up. "Say that again. I'm afraid I didn't hear you properly."

Draco frowned, wondering if Harry was under a Confundus charm or just too tired to focus properly. "I said that you looked like a ghost, and then I asked you to tell me the reason why," Draco enunciated slowly, not caring that he sounded curious, and carefully watched Harry's reaction. If Harry was indeed under a Confundus, Draco would have to get him out of it before the man's brains became too muddled.

Harry shook his head, amusement shining in his eyes, which convinced Draco that the man was absolutely not under a Confundus. Nobody's eyes could be so clear and breathtaking while they were confused by a charm. "No, Malfoy, I heard that part properly. I was just surprised, since you called me Harry."

Draco stared blankly and open-mouthed at Harry for a moment before he felt his face heat up. He closed his mouth with a pop, trying to look anywhere but at Harry, which was quite difficult with the man sitting just a table width away. He could hear Harry laughing softly, which made his humiliation all the worse. "What, Potter? You should be honored I called you by your first name, you half-blood," Draco shot out, anger and embarrassment making his usually pale features flame. It was a sort of defense mechanism for Draco, that whenever he was embarrassed or scared, he would throw insults and jibes at anyone who came his way.

Harry stopped laughing right away, though the mirth still lingered in his eyes, almost distracting Draco out of his anger. "Oh no, I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing because you called me by my first name. It was just your reaction when I pointed it out. I swear, you looked like a fish for a moment there." Harry collapsed in another fit of chuckling, holding his stomach when he couldn't get enough air. Draco had to blink away tears of frustration and mortification, trying to control his urge to smack the man in the face for laughing.

When Harry finally calmed down and Draco was on the brink of storming out of the kitchen, Harry said, "I have to admit, that was the first time I've ever seen you look like that. To me, you always seemed so distant and completely like a," Harry hesitated, struggling for words, "Like an aristocratic, pureblood, spoiled rotten git." Harry held up his hands when Draco opened his mouth to say what he thought of _him,_ and continued, "But you looked so human for a second that I just realized that all this time I've been thinking you weren't. So I apologize. Oh, and since I said we were friends last time I was here, we might as well start calling each other by our first names. It's actually a pretty good idea, Draco."

The sneering insult that Draco had been about to deliver died on his lips. Harry had called him Draco. The moment replayed itself in his head, and he almost jumped with joy as Harry's voice saying 'Draco' echoed over and over in his mind. Harry was still talking, though, and Draco forced himself to concentrate on the man's words instead of spiraling into delirium.

"I'm surprised you're taking me up on my offer," Harry was saying, "I thought that as soon as I gave your wand back you would just leave and go back to your own life. But I have to admit, it's nice to have someone staying here. It makes the house feel better, and it's nice that Kreacher has company as well. I try to come by as often as I can, but I'm always worried that Kreacher might get lonely sometimes."

The house elf himself appeared with a pop. "Oh, no, Master Harry. Kreacher be happy that Master Harry thinks of Kreacher so much. Kreacher never gets lonely, since Master Harry be visiting as often as he can. Master Draco is happy Master Harry be visiting as well. Master Draco be very excited earlier-"

The house elf stopped talking with a snap, Draco having hurriedly cast a Silencio on the elf. Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco, but Draco only shrugged, nonchalantly sliding his wand back into the sleeve of Harry's shirt that he was wearing. Internally, Draco was cringing at what the elf had spilled, and thought with horror at what Harry must think. Draco vowed to himself to order the elf to never say anything about him to Harry again, after Harry left, of course. In the meantime, Draco supposed he would just have to make do with silencing charms.

Harry quickly waved his hand, releasing Kreacher's voice and exhibiting another display of perfectly controlled wandless magic. "Sorry about that, Kreacher. I'll have to talk about using spells against my friends later with Draco. I don't think it'll ever happen again, right Draco?" Draco made a noncommittal sound in his throat, looking away. This earned him another pair of raised eyebrows from Harry, but Draco could see a grin lurking at the edges of his lips, which meant that Harry wasn't actually angry. "Anyways, Kreacher, thank you for looking after Draco. He looks much better now than when I first brought him. I'm sure it's all because of your hard work, Kreacher."

The elf positively glowed at Harry's praise, and Harry patted the elf on the head before the elf disappeared again. Harry turned back to Draco, the smile that he had glimpsed earlier emerging in full. "So, Draco," Harry began, "You were excited to see me?"

Draco huffed and looked away, which made Harry chuckle again, though the chuckle sounded tired. Draco glanced at Harry again in concern. "I'm serious, Po-, Harry. What happened? You look like you're gonna collapse any moment."

Harry stopped chuckling and his grin slid off his face, and Draco felt a moment's regret that it was gone. Harry didn't give him time to contemplate the emotion, though, since he had leaned back in his chair again and closed his eyes, pulling a bit on his hair, and was talking in a monotone, soft and expressionless. "Well, I left you about two and a half weeks ago, right? Well, after I left I Apparated over to the Ministry, since I had some papers to fill out and stuff. And then I went home, but Ginny was there, and we fought over something stupid, so I spent the night in my office in the Auror Department. Then I went on some pretty troublesome cases that Kingsley gave me, which took me the better part of two weeks. And then I had to spend two days filling out the blasted paperwork that goes with each case. Since I don't have a partner, I had to do it all myself. And then I went home again yesterday, and Ginny and I got into a row about Ron, so I was going to spend the night in my office again. After the custodian told me to go home, I went back, and I found out that Ginny was cheating on me with some Quidditch player after five years of marriage and in my own house at that, so we had another fight about that, and the poor Quidditch player was so damn embarrassed he was apologizing so much, saying he was so sorry and that he didn't mean to have sex with the wife of Harry Potter and he was just making Ginny even more angry and we were shouting and my magic started going crazy and destroying stuff and the windows blew out and something caught on fire and the neighbors started knocking to see why we were so loud in the middle of the night and I just couldn't believe that Ginny would _do _that to me, since I loved her and I thought we were happy and I just don't know!"

Harry's voice had risen from his calm monotone to a shout, and Draco could feel Harry's magic swirl dangerously around the room, creating a slight breeze and sparking against the table surface. Harry's eyes had darkened to a deep emerald, and Draco knew that the look in them was one of pain. Harry was staring helplessly at Draco, and Draco felt his mind go blank. All he wanted to do was leap across the table that separated them and take Harry in his arms, comforting him and wiping that heart-wrenching look off his face.

Before he could react, Harry had hid his pain again, his eyes returning to the usual emerald, though flickers of darkness hid in their depths. Giving Draco a lopsided grin that was obviously forced, Harry shrugged. "Yeah. That's my life, the life of the Savior and all that. Aren't I lucky?" Harry's tone was scathing and dry, cynical and completely emotionless. Getting up from the table, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to my room. Good day, Draco."

Harry swept out of the room before Draco could say anything, much less call him back. After Harry's report on his life, Draco wished that he had never asked. In all the times when Draco had envied Harry at school, had envied the boy who had everything, Draco had never stopped to consider how hard it must be to be in a position where your life, your actions, and even your thoughts were completely controlled by those around you.

Draco wasted the day away by brooding in the library on what Harry had told him. Draco had always known that Harry's unconditional trust and kindness would stab him in the back one day, as it had done so spectacularly in Ginny's cheating with the Quidditch player. But now that the event had passed, Draco found that it didn't please him half as much as he had thought it would, especially after seeing the hurt and sense of betrayal in Harry's face. Draco sighed. He was developing a soft spot for Harry, even though he had only seen the man twice for brief periods of time after five years of absence.

During dinner that night, Draco waited anxiously for Harry to appear, but Kreacher just told him that Harry would be staying in his room that night. After eating, Draco found his steps leading once again to the door of Harry's room. If anything, the wards around the door were even stronger, so that Draco had to concentrate for half an hour to even look at the door without turning around. Draco couldn't hear anything through the door, and when Kreacher popped up beside him after he called, he asked the house-elf why.

"Master Harry has cast strong silencing charms on his rooms, Master Draco, since Master Harry be wanting some privacy. Master Harry can rage and cry all he likes in his rooms, Master Draco, without fear of anybody hearing." The elf's eyes widened as he noticed his slip up, but Draco had already caught the words before the elf clapped a hand to its mouth.

"Harry cries in there? Alone? Does he do that all the time?" Draco could not keep the incredulity from his voice. He had always thought Harry a saint, invincible and unmovable. Draco had never seen Harry cry. He didn't even think anything could _make _Harry cry. Or maybe, a voice whispered in the back of his head, Harry's been hiding it from everybody all this time, never showing his tears to the world.

Draco felt his insides clench, and he felt as though he would cry himself. He raised a hand to the door, but Kreacher stilled his hand, shaking his head so hard his ears made flapping noises. "Master Harry be putting strong wards, Master Draco. Master Harry be putting wards so strong not even Kreacher can get past. Should Master Draco touch Master Harry's door, Master Draco would get very hurt, yes. The Master Harry's blood-traitor wife once tried, and she was in St. Mungo's for a week, yes, and even though the blood-traitor wife be deserving, Master Harry would not wish Master Draco hurt."

Draco nodded slowly, and brought his hand down to hang limply at his side. His wand was in his sleeve, but he knew that his power would do nothing against the wards. Helplessness engulfed him, knowing that Harry was crying on the other side of that door and he was powerless to do anything about it. He made his way back to his own room, burrowing under the blankets and inhaling Harry's scent from the clothes that Draco wore. Draco fell asleep curled in a ball, clutching Harry's shirt at his chest with his heart longing to comfort the man upstairs.


	6. Diagon Alley

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

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><p>The next morning dawned bright and clear, the September sunshine shining through the windows, both magical and real. Draco woke to the smell of bacon and pancakes, mouth watering at the prospect of a delicious breakfast. With a jolt, memories of the previous night rushed back into his head. Draco cursed under his breath, scrambling out of bed to see how Harry was doing. Stumbling down the stairs after a hasty bath and dressing in the first things he grabbed, Draco staggered into the kitchen to find Harry smiling at Kreacher, a complete slice of toast dangling out of his mouth and looking astonishingly radiant, especially considering the way he had looked yesterday.<p>

"Draco!" Harry greeted him, though with the toast in his mouth it came out sounding more like _watho_. Harry grinned and swallowed a bite of his toast, taking the rest out of his mouth before continuing to speak. "Hey. Good morning. Sorry 'bout yesterday, I was kinda feeling under the weather. You free today? I was wondering if you'd come to Diagon Alley with me for a bit." Harry chuckled nervously and pulled at his hair, a habit that Draco was beginning to recognize as what Harry did when he was uncomfortable. It was oddly endearing.

Since Draco had nothing better to do anyways, he leapt at the chance to spend the day with Harry. So far, he had only been hanging around Grimmauld Place, alone and in silence. Since Harry had brought him to the house, he hadn't even considered wandering back out into the real world, rather keeping himself locked away in his own private universe that consisted only of Grimmauld Place, Kreacher, and Harry. This had actually worked out quite well, as Kreacher had seemingly materialized all the necessities such as food and soap and things, so there really was no need to go outside.

Draco felt a smile pulling at his mouth, but forced his face back to its usual mask of studied indifference. Rolling his eyes, he drawled, "Well, if you're that desperate for my company, I suppose I'll be gracious." Harry's eyes sparkled with laughter, turning once again into that startling shade of grass green that it did when Potter was amused.

"Well, Draco, I suppose that you'll never concede without ill grace, so I guess that's the best I'll get. Come on, eat quick, I'm looking forward to going." Harry dragged Draco into the seat beside him, while turning his attention back to his toast, crunching loudly and spilling crumbs everywhere.

Draco rolled his eyes. Some things never changed, and Harry's horrible manners were obviously one of them.

After helping Kreacher clean up the breakfast plates, which Draco thought was insane, since house-elves were supposed to do it anyways, Harry looked down at the Auror robes that he still wore, causing a wrinkle to appear between his brows as he frowned. "Hey Draco, do you think this is too conspicuous? I should change, right?" Indecisive green eyes met gray ones, and Draco contemplated the man before him.

In truth, Harry looked stunning. He had regained some color and the shadows around his eyes weren't as obvious after a good night's rest, and his hair was casually mussed, though the man obviously never put any thought into it. The crisp white undershirt was a bit wrinkled after having been slept in, but it looked loose and comfortable. The crimson Auror robes were edged in gold, reminding Draco an awful lot of the Gryffindor colors, and the red robe perfectly brought out Harry's raven dark hair and his dazzling green eyes, accentuating Harry's sun bronzed skin. Thinking that the robes were, in fact, a tiny bit too conspicuous for an informal day in Diagon Alley, Draco nodded. "Well, when did the famous Gryffindor Chosen One decide that he didn't want to be conspicuous?" Draco sneered, if only to stop Harry from noticing the way his eyes lingered on him.

Harry laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that sounded as free as a bird. The sound made something clench in Draco's stomach, and made his toes curl in pleasure. "Well, Draco, like I said before, you may know a lot about Gryffindors, but you don't know a lot about me. We spent most of our time at school fighting over petty reasons, so we never really got to get to know each other."

Draco almost asked 'and now we will?' but he thought better of it, not wanting to know what Harry would answer. Draco looked away, and he heard Harry chuckle, which only annoyed him further. Draco looked back in time to see Harry snap his fingers and his Auror robes completely disappeared, to be replaced with comfortable black slacks and a navy and green plaid shirt, open in the front with a white undershirt underneath. Draco turned his gasp into a cough to disguise it when he saw Harry in the new outfit. He had known before that Harry was fit, but the Auror robes completely did not do justice to those perfect abs and wiry muscled arms, which were now all too obvious with the open shirt and tight undershirt.

Looking down at himself, Harry huffed in satisfaction, completely unaware of the effect he was having on Draco. "There," Harry proclaimed, "This is much more comfortable than those stuffy old Auror uniforms. I never saw the reason why we had to go fight bad wizards in such uncomfortable robes. So inconvenient."

Draco only nodded in agreement, not trusting himself to speak. Harry looked at him, and a frown creased his eyebrows again. "Draco, are you really going to wear _that_ outside? I normally really don't care about fashion or public opinion, but even I think that's a bit extreme."

Draco looked down at himself, not even remembering what he was wearing since his hurry to get downstairs to see if Harry was ok. Looking at himself now, though, he fought to stop the flush of embarrassment from showing on his cheeks – unsuccessfully, it seemed, since Harry chuckled again. Crossing his arms and lifting his chin, Draco assumed his defensive position and stared down the green-eyed man, letting every shred of his pride and his anger show in his eyes and trying not to think about what he looked like in his ridiculous choice of clothing.

Harry wisely stopped laughing, though the mirth still glinted in the depths of his eyes. Assuming a more serious expression, Harry shook his head. "Don't worry, Draco. I'm sure many people would believe your taste to be absolutely revolutionary. After all, not many men would dare to wear sheer pink tights and a muscle shirt. You would be the light of change in many people's hearts."

Draco did nothing but tightened his arms around himself, feeling completely inadequate next to Harry's rugged perfection. Draco moved to head back upstairs to change, however, when Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Draco. Don't be offended. It's just such a long time since I've done anything so normal as to laugh and joke around with one of my friends." Draco's heart thumped at hearing himself called a friend, though he ignored it and continued to assume his defiant stance. "And besides, you pull it off quite nicely. The outfit looks almost nice on you." Harry smiled at Draco's look of pure fury, and let go of his arm. "I'm just messing with you. Here, I'll change you into something better."

Snapping his fingers again, Draco's horrible attire vanished, with a gorgeous tux appearing in its place. The jacket was midnight black, with blue and purple accents. Underneath was a meticulously ironed white dress shirt, with a green and silver striped tie. Draco almost gasped at the luxuriousness of the attire, since after the trial in which he had lost both his home and his fortune, he had never imagined that he would wear anything so fancy ever again. Harry frowned again, though, his eyes turning bottle green when he did so. "Think that's a bit too fancy, or do you like it?" he asked Draco.

"This is way too extravagant. I thought we were only spending a day in Diagon Alley!"

Harry smiled. "Never thought I'd hear _you_ say something is too extravagant, Draco. Well, then, how about this?" Harry snapped again, and the tux was replaced with a semi-tight short-sleeved black t-shirt, with black pants and a shiny metal chain belt. Since it was September, Draco got a leather vest and a scarf.

Looking down appreciatively at himself, Draco nodded in pleasure. Draco thought the scarf was a bit too much, though, so he took it off and handed it to Harry, saying, "I know it's September and everything, but really, I'm not so weak as to need a scarf already." Harry shrugged and took the scarf, wrapping it around his own neck instead.

"Let's go," Harry decided, after seeing that everything was settled. Draco nodded. Harry hesitated a moment, then asked, "Do you want to meet there, or Side-Along?"

Draco considered the question. He hadn't Apparated in five years, and he would really like to avoid a splinching, which would really ruin his mood for the rest of the day. "Let's Side-Along," he decided. Harry nodded and held out his arm. Draco gripped it and they were gone.

Draco stumbled a bit after they appeared on Diagon Alley, not used to the warping feeling of Apparation anymore, only to be caught and steadied against Harry's chest. Draco looked up slightly and peered into Harry's face to say thanks, ignoring the ridiculous fluttering of his heart, only to find that it wasn't Harry who he was leaning against. It was a man he had never seen before, with dirty blond hair falling into his bright hazel eyes, tanned skin and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose.

Draco shoved himself away from the man, fear and embarrassment twisting his insides as he tried to stammer out an apology. Noticing that his vocal cords weren't functioning, Draco turned to run in the opposite direction, intending to find Harry and make him pay for dumping him out in the street full of strangers. A warm, strong grip encircled his wrist, and Draco found himself pulled back into the arms of the stranger. Draco elbowed the man in the stomach, hearing a surprised grunt as an answer. Draco writhed and strained wildly in the man's arms, desperate to get away and find Harry. The man was strong, however. Stronger that Draco. Lean muscular arms gripped both of his hands, restraining him in an iron embrace.

"Draco, it's me, you git," an annoyed voice breathed in his ear, though the voice wasn't Harry's. It was higher, and more boyish, with none of Harry's deep rumble. "I cast a glamour over myself the instant before we Apparated, and I cast one on you as well. Did you honestly think that we would just stroll down Diagon Alley as ourselves? Now I'll release you if you promise not to run again, ok? I'd hate to spend all day tracking you with a spell. Jeez, man, calm yourself. You're making a scene."

And indeed, several passers by have turned to stare, though when Draco stopped acting half crazy and started to regain his composure, the wizards and witches continued along on their ways.

Draco had calmed down a bit, because even though the voice wasn't Harry's, the unmistakable tone could only belong to one person. Besides, nobody else knew that he was Draco Malfoy. Yet, at least, although it seemed improbable that anyone would recognize him if the glamour on him was as good as the one on Harry. The arms encircling him slowly eased back, and Draco felt a momentary pang of disappointment, which he promptly shoved back into the Pandora's Box of all the other strange feelings he'd been experiencing recently.

Draco turned around and was faced once again with the dirty blond haired man with hazel eyes. Now that Draco was paying attention, he noticed that the man's clothes were the same as the ones that Harry had worn, down to the scarf wrapped around his neck. Draco calmed down completely after seeing the scarf, since nobody but Harry would be crazy enough to wear a scarf even though it was just the start September.

Harry smiled again, and Draco felt a small flutter of relief in the pit of his stomach when he realized that the smile was genuinely Harry's. "That was quite a reaction there, Draco," Harry commented, grinning.

Draco felt his usual indignation flare up again at the man, and retorted, "Well, if you were an exiled ex-Death Eater, you'd be pretty scared to bump into some stranger as well. Especially after spending five years with absolutely no contact from anybody in the wizarding world." Draco noticed his hands were trembling, and he was surprised at his own reaction. For a moment, when he hadn't known who he had bumped into, he had experienced a moment of sheer terror, and had automatically resorted to finding Harry as a solution. Draco mentally raged at himself for acting like a terrified weakling, and also for instantly relying on Harry for help. He was a _Malfoy_, for Merlin's sake, and no Malfoy would ever look to some half-blood like Harry Potter for help.

Harry contemplated Draco's words, cocking his head to the side in a way that reminded Draco of a curious puppy. Harry's now dirty blond hair fell into his hazel eyes, and Draco admired the way the expressive eyes reflected the sunlight, though Draco secretly missed the bright green hue and raven dark locks. "I guess you're right, I would probably react the same way," Harry said in a skeptical voice. "Oh well. The important thing is that we made it here and nobody's recognized us yet. Where do you wanna go first?"

Draco looked around. They were in a center square in Diagon Alley, and he could see the Apothecary and Madam Malkins' Robe Shop down one street, Gringotts and Ollivanders – which was now abandoned – down another. Draco shrugged. "Well, I don't have anywhere specific. Where do you need to go?"

"Well, I guess we should head over to the Apothecary for a bit."

The inside of the shop was dark and smelled of spilled potions from long past. Draco wandered the shelves as Harry sought for what he needed, just looking at anything that caught his eye. A strange purplish pink potion caught his eye, as it was a color that he had never seen before in a potion. Reading the label, it said, '_For lovers homosexual in nature, used to produce a child from two parents of the same sex. Directions for use: drink potion with food and plenty of water. Wait at least one hour, and then engage in sexual intercourse with desired partner. Potion will cause pregnancy and will follow the usual nine-month process before a child is born. Use with caution. Keep away from all children and do not leave in the presence of strong magic for more than five hours.' _

Draco hastily put the potion back on the shelf with a self-conscious blush. He had no idea that such a potion even existed, much less that it was so common that it could be found in an Apothecary shop. Draco noticed a wizard standing down the aisle eyeing him with curiosity, and a hint of temptation. Understanding that the wizard assumed that he was gay, Draco hastened to explain himself. "N-no, you d-don't- I'm n-not- You misunderstand," Draco stammered out, causing his blush to increase.

The wizard smiled and moved towards Draco, backing him into the shelf so that he had nowhere to run, unless he decided to push the entire shelf over, which would lead to a chain reaction and all the shelves would fall, and would undoubtedly bring unwanted attention to Draco.

"Don't worry. It's nothing to be ashamed of." The other wizard eyed Draco appreciatively. "You're quite a looker, aren't you? Say, wanna come with me for some lunch? I know a great place." The other wizard put a sweaty hand on Draco's shoulder, and Draco squirmed under the uncomfortable warmth.

Draco fought off the urge to punch in the guy's teeth, or at least to tell him to fuck off. Instead, he satisfied himself with sneering at the man, his confidence bolstered by his disgust, "That's probably the most cliché pickup line I've ever heard. Even if I were into men, you'd never come close. And you know what? I have quite a selective taste. Tall, dark-haired, lean and fit, with beautiful eyes, not to mention respectability and lots of potential. You're none of those things, and you know what? I _am_ a looker. And I'm way too good for you."

The wizard's plastered smile turned into a scowl. "Now look here, you-" but that was as far as he got. Harry had finished his purchases, and had smoothly inserted himself into the tiny space that separated Draco with the wizard.

Smiling brightly, Harry greeted the wizard. "Hi there, mister. I hope there aren't any problems? I'd hate to have to pay for any damages to the store if something happened. Now, would you kindly let go of my friend, please?"

The wizard's scowl deepened. "Who the fuck are you?"

Harry continued smiling, but the intense magic aura that constantly surrounded him began to swirl dangerously, rattling the potion vials on the shelves and fluttering in the wizard's hair. "I don't believe that's the problem here. Would you please unhand my friend, sir? This is the last time I will ask." When the wizard still looked reluctant to let Draco go, Harry's wild magic swirled in a howling blast around all three of them, though only the wizard was affected by the violent wind, while Draco and Harry remained untouched in the middle of the mini tornado. Draco looked around and was surprised to see that nothing outside the wind tunnel was affected by it either, since the shop wasn't being demolished by the incredible wind.

Finally letting go of Draco, the wizard was blown away by the tornado that Harry had wandlessly created, blasted out the door and ejected into the street of Diagon Alley in an unbecoming ruffled heap. The wind instantly died down the moment the wizard was out of the shop, and Harry turned to Draco again, grinning.

"That was unexpected, wasn't it? I didn't think that you'd be harassed, but I'm obviously wrong. Say, don't you have your wand? Why didn't you pull it out? That would've stopped the guy before I had to create a tornado to kick him out."

Draco remembered at the last moment of his wand hidden in his sleeve, and flushed in embarrassment. "I guess I forgot," he admitted.

Harry chuckled, though it wasn't mocking. "Guess you have to get used to it again, huh? Come on. I think the shop owner's getting kinda pissed at us."

Indeed, the wizard behind the counter was eyeing them with badly hidden hostility, which was well deserved, actually, seeing as Harry had just summoned a natural disaster into his shop, even though nothing was damaged. Harry grabbed Draco's wrist and laughed as he pulled Draco out of the shop. The wizard that Harry had blasted was nowhere in sight, probably having had picked himself off the cobblestones and run away in embarrassment.

"Where to next?" Draco asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "How about we drop by Fortescue's? The ice cream there is always the best, even though Fortescue was murdered in the war."

Draco glanced at Harry, but the man was looking ahead and smiling. Draco thought he detected a hint of darkness within the glamoured hazel eyes, but the next moment it was gone as Harry looked at him. "So? Do you want to go there, or look around somewhere else?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah, whatever." With the mention of going for food, Draco abruptly realized that he had not had a drop of alcohol in his system for over two entire weeks, and he hadn't even made a conscious effort to stay away. His life had just been so drastically changed, so he hadn't even spared a thought for alcohol to drown out his memories. With a jolt, it dawned on Draco that his memories of the war, which had haunted him constantly for the entire time of his exile, had now become bearable in the presence of Harry, someone who had shared the same experiences and bore the same scars.

Without the constant shadow of despair looming over him, Draco noticed that he had visibly become more cheerful in the two weeks or so that he had stayed in Harry's house. Back during the war, he had been so terrified, he had been afraid to sleep, to dream, because the Dark Lord would be able to look into his mind. After all his talk of his parents and his pureblood status, the war with the Dark Lord had made him realize that it wasn't really about the purebloods and the muggle-borns, it was about one insane man's desperate pitch for power and the difference between friend or foe mattered very little. It was about survival, and enemies could very well become allies, just as friends would readily stab you in the back.

Draco shook his head to clear it of the dark thoughts. Harry handed him the bag that he had gotten from the Apothecary, and went inside the shop to get them both ice cream. Draco settled himself into one of the chairs that stood outside the shop, watching the people as they walked past, waiting for Harry to return.

Draco put the bag that Harry had handed him onto the table, but it toppled over and a few vials of potion fell out. Draco hastily gathered them into his hands and was about to put them back into the bag when he noticed the color. Draco had always been good at potions, and the distinctive purple hue of the potion instantly identified it as Dreamless Sleep. Opening his hand, Draco saw that all of the vials were full of it. Peering into the bag, Draco saw that Harry had gotten at least fifty or so vials of Dreamless Sleep.

A tingle of alarm trickled down Draco's spine. Dreamless Sleep was harmless when used for recuperation, and when used in moderation. However, the sheer amount of the potion in the bag that Harry had gotten was enough to kill a man three times over. Not to mention that taking Dreamless Sleep every single night was bound to wreck normal sleeping patterns, causing insomnia and other sleeping disorders should the potion be suddenly taken away.

When Harry returned smiling from the shop, holding two giant ice cream cones in his hands, one with chocolate and raspberry sauce with chopped nuts, the other with butterscotch and honey with sprinkles. Draco chose the butterscotch cone, and Harry grinned while licking the chocolate. "You know, this is same as the first ice cream cone I've ever gotten here, back before first year when Hagrid took me here to get my stuff for Hogwarts."

Draco nodded, not willing to break the mood, but decided that the issue needed to be addressed. "Harry," Draco said quietly, staring out into the street at the shop across from Fortescue's. Harry leaned forward to hear him, and Draco continued. "I saw what you had inside the bag you got from the Apothecary. The bag fell down and some potions tumbled out, and when I put them back in I saw they were all the same." Draco finally turned to look at Harry, and saw the brilliant hazel eyes dim with realization. "That much Dreamless Sleep isn't healthy, Harry. Why would you need so much? If you take them every night, you won't be able to sleep without them if you stop."

Harry turned to look at the same shop Draco had been staring at, licking his ice cream contemplatively. After the silence stretched into minutes, Draco was afraid that Harry would ignore him. Finally, Harry opened his mouth. "I need those potions. I can't sleep without them anyways, so I might as well take them."

Harry refused to meet Draco's eyes, keeping his own firmly attached to the window of the opposite shop, his whole body tense. Draco decided not to question further, fearing he would upset Harry, and the tension that had momentarily snapped between them subsided into an uneasy truce.

They sat like that for what seemed like ages, but was only a quarter of an hour, both men lost in their own thoughts. The peace was broken, however, as a voice was heard shouting. The voice neared, and both Draco and Harry realized that the voice was repeating the same thing over and over.

"Harry Potter! Harry fucking Potter, come over here!"

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Thanks to Aelijah85 and ArienAngel529 for noticing a mistake in this chapter. ARGH! I hate writing when people are glamoured. Thanks guys! Hope I got all of them. Tell me if you see anything else!


	7. Tracked Back Home

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

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><p>Draco saw that Harry had gone completely still, all his muscles rigid in a pose that emanated agitation. His ice cream cone was almost finished, and Harry crammed the rest of it into his mouth. Standing up, he held out a hand to Draco. "Come on, we have to go." Harry's tone brooked no argument, and Draco, after stuffing the last of his own cone in his mouth, grabbed Harry's bag of Dreamless Sleep and took Harry's hand. Instantly, they Disapparated from Diagon Alley, leaving the voice behind, and appeared again in the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.<p>

"Who was that? How in the world did they recognize you?" Draco asked, as he watched the glamour fade off of Harry's figure until the dark haired green eyed man stood once again in front of him. Draco felt a slight tingle of magic brush his own skin, and knew that Harry had taken off the glamour that had concealed his identity as well.

Shaking his head, Harry ran a hand over his tangled hair, which looked no different because of it. Harry started pacing in the kitchen like an agitated lion while Draco busied himself with putting the potions on the kitchen counter. Kreacher appeared with a pop, and, seeing Harry's pacing, wisely decided to talk to Draco instead.

"What might be the matter, Master Draco? Master Harry is agitated, yes, very agitated. Did something go wrong today?" Kreacher asked as he took the potions from Draco, vanishing them to some other location in the house.

Draco shrugged helplessly. "I don't know Kreacher," Draco mumbled. "We were in Diagon Alley and everything was fine, but then someone recognized Harry even through his glamour and started shouting for him to go over. The person didn't sound happy, and then Harry immediately Apparated us back here. Do you have any idea what's the problem?"

Kreacher's eyes widened, and he glanced worriedly at Harry. As if sensing the house-elf's gaze, Harry answered Draco's question. "I know how they recognized me. It was because of my damn magic. Even though my glamour was perfect, there's no possible way to conceal this stupid magic of mine that's practically leaking off of me, like a great big sign pointing to me and saying 'here is Harry bloody Potter'!" Harry barked out the last few words, bitterly saying his own name. Harry continued pacing, and Draco went over to the other man.

Taking a gulp of air, Draco summoned his courage and grabbed both of Harry's hands, which were surprisingly warm and large. With his hands in another's grasp, Harry was forced to stop his frantic pacing and looked questioningly at Draco, traces of anger evident in his eyes at whoever the person was who had called to him. Draco ducked his head, reluctant to meet those eyes when they were barely inches apart, instead focusing on the contrast between Harry's strong hands and his own slender fingers.

"Calm down, Harry," Draco said down to their joined hands, "Take a couple of deep breaths. It's okay. Don't worry. Everything will be fine." Draco winced at his completely insufficient attempt at comforting the other man, but Harry seemed to relax. Daring to peek up at Harry's face, Draco blinked at the emotions displayed in those bright eyes. There were still some shadows of anger, and the eyes still radiated tense hostility. But there was also happiness, and something so mysteriously foreign and tender. It made shivers crawl down Draco's back and his mouth to go dry, but Draco forced himself to continue to meet the green eyes that seemed to look right through him.

Harry gave Draco a small smile, and gently extricated his hands from within Draco's grasp. Without Harry's hands, Draco felt oddly cold, though there were plenty of heating charms in the house to keep it at a comfortable temperature. "Thank you, Draco," was all Harry said.

A god-awful banging and screeching coming from the front door shattered the tranquil moment. Harry visibly tensed again, and clenched his hands into his sides. At that moment, the only thing Draco wanted was to curse whoever it was making such a racket by the door as far away as possible, since they were obviously causing Harry so much pain.

Harry looked at Draco, green eyes now emerald with the pain and anger concealed within their depths. "Draco," Harry's voice was soft, pleading, "Please go upstairs. This is something that I will not force you to suffer through. It's time I faced her, anyways. It seems I'm lacking in that famous Gryffindor courage nowadays, doesn't it?" Harry chuckled, but there was no mirth in the sound. Only bitterness and mockery directed at himself.

Draco put his hand on Harry's arm, but when Harry avoided his eyes, Draco sighed and left the man alone in the kitchen, the banging increasing in volume as he made his way to the stairs. Climbing up the first flight, Draco made sure he was concealed from view, but was able to hear everything that was going on. Draco could even peek through a gap in the banister and see Harry pacing once more in the kitchen.

Draco watched as Harry asked Kreacher, who had remained in the kitchen, to let the person in and lead them to the kitchen. Kreacher obeyed, albeit reluctantly, and Apparated to the doorway, slowly opening to door to the person screeching outside. The moment Kreacher opened the door, however, a bright red whirlwind immediately dashed inside, knocking Kreacher over in the process as the visitor made her way to the kitchen where Harry stood as if preparing for a war. Draco recognized the person to be Ginny Weasley, or the Weaslette, as he preferred to think of her. She was wearing the crimson robes of an Auror, an identical set to Harry's. But, unlike Harry's, which accented his looks and made him seem as if he was invincible, the red robes on Ginny Weasley just clashed with her hair and pale freckled skin, making her look like a stuck up snobby bitch. Which she was, Draco reminded himself.

Draco's attention was diverted as Kreacher picked himself up off the floor, muttering darkly about the blood-traitor and her bad treatment of Master Harry, which Kreacher made sure was loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. When Draco looked back to the kitchen again, he saw that Harry had sat down, looking as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and was offering the Weaslette a seat.

She refused, and stood stiffly in the doorway of the kitchen, blocking most of what Draco could see of Harry. A wave of annoyance swept through Draco that the bint was keeping him from seeing if Harry was all right, and Draco resisted the urge to _stupefy_ her and leave her out on the street. It would get rid of her, Draco knew, but she would just come back and Harry's problems would just increase. Besides, Draco knew that Harry wouldn't want him to hex the Weaslette, no matter how much she deserved it.

Draco heard Harry's voice then, and forced his attention away from hexing the ginger haired girl to focus on the words the man was speaking. "Why did you come here, Gin? I thought that I made it clear two nights ago that I wanted a divorce, and that I didn't want to see you at all unless something life-threateningly urgent came up. Seeing as you're standing in front of me and perfectly healthy, I don't know why you would shout my name in the middle of Diagon Alley of all places, and why you would go so far as to trace my Apparition to my house." This was spoken in a soft, tired voice; a voice that revealed just how betrayed Harry felt.

Harry's soft words seemed to open the floodgates for Ginny Weasley, though. Taking a deep breath, Ginny started ranting, her voice growing higher until it was once more screeching at the top of her lungs. "You just Apparated out of the house on Friday, and you left me to deal with all the mess that _you_ created! Do you know how long it took to clean up everything you broke, stop the fire, explain to the neighbors and to calm Darryl down enough so that he wasn't threatening to call the Aurors on me for rape? Darryl and I were perfectly happy until _you_ came along and ruined it! It's all your fault now that Darryl avoids me and won't even let me explain! You're just a coward, that's all, Harry. You never had the guts in the first place to properly have sex with me! You were always careful about hurting me, trying to gently do everything. It's no surprise that I had to go after someone else who would make me happy! And now you _ruined _our relationship! Just because you're a selfish coward!"

"It's _my_ fault? It's _my_ fault that you were cheating on me after _five years _of _marriage?_ It's _my _fault that you were sleeping with another man in _my_ bed, in _my _house? It's _my _fault that you didn't tell that godforsaken Quidditch player that you were the wife of the fucking _Harry Potter_? It's _my_ fault that the Quidditch player has enough sense in that empty shell of a brain to know that adultery is wrong and left you? Ginny, how can you turn this whole thing into being _my _fault? I treated you gently because I didn't want to hurt you. Everyone who I have ever cared about or loved died in the end, or was put under torture because of me. I can't help it that I don't want _my wife _hurt because of me! If you didn't like it that much, if you just told me then I would've changed! You didn't have to go sleeping around behind my back!" Harry was sitting straight in his chair, looking as if he would snap from the tension that was practically rolling off of him in waves. His magic was whipping around the room, causing even Draco's hair to flutter from his spot crouching on the stairs. The cupboards and silverware rattled in the cupboards, and green and yellow sparks danced in the air. Ginny cringed at the display of strength, but held her position.

"You always say that! You always go back to it being a little pity-fest for yourself! Get over yourself already, Harry! Can't you see that this isn't about you, it's about me? You're always moping about for your dead parents, your dead godfather, the dead werewolf and his girlfriend. Well, I've got some news for you, Harry. They're fucking dead! They're dead, dead, dead! You couldn't save them, so they're dead, and there's nothing you can do about it now!" Ginny stamped her foot, sweating with her hair sticking to her face. Draco sneered in disgust at the ugly bint. He wondered what Harry had ever seen in her, that he had married her in the first place.

"Ginny Potter!" Harry roared, "You will leave my family out of this! You will never speak of them again! You are making a mockery out of their lives, their sacrifices! Do you even know what you're saying?" Draco winced as Harry said the Weaslette's name. Draco knew that it was to be expected, seeing as the Weaslette was married to Harry, but Draco couldn't suppress the rage that flooded through him at the mention of the girl's full name. Draco gripped the bars of the staircase railing to keep from reaching for his wand and cursing the stupid bint out of Harry's house and making sure that she would never see Harry again. In that moment, Draco experienced for the first time the feeling of pure jealousy, a feeling so nasty and piercing that Draco was sickened by himself.

"You know what though?" Ginny continued, ignoring Harry's outburst but quickly changing topics nonetheless, "You're right about hurting everyone you love. You treated me horribly, and now you're trying to make it seem as if I'm the bad guy! And Fred died for you too! And dad was attacked by that snake because of you! And Ron. He's always thought of you as his best mate. And now look where he is because of you! He's fucking drunk all the time and he doesn't do anything but sit on his arse all day complaining! And it's _all your fault!"_

"Don't you _dare,_" hissed Harry, slamming his hands on the table with an impressive bang and shooting to his feet, "Don't you dare bring Ron into this conversation! I want to help him! I offered it many times! And what do I get? He punches me in the face and tells me that he never wants to see me again! No matter what he's still my best mate, even though he doesn't think of me the same way anymore. He was my first friend in my whole life! I never wanted this to happen! You know that I'd do anything for him, if he'd only _give me a chance!_"

"Give you a chance?" Ginny shrieked, her shrill voice grating on Draco's ears, "_Give you a chance?_ And how can we even know if you're trustworthy anymore, huh Harry? I saw you today outside of Fortescues, having ice cream with that guy! So you're through with us Weasleys, huh, and now you're ditching us for some other family willing to accept you're sorry ass?"

"That man was my friend, Ginny Potter. And he was a truer friend than you'll ever be, considering that you've turned out to be nothing more than a slut!" Harry's face was twisted with anger, and he spat out the girl's name as if it was a curse. The magic around Harry was making everything in the kitchen shake and rattle, and the magical lights attached to the ceiling flickered on and off, casting the room into darkness before the lights relit themselves.

"A slut you say?" Ginny paled when the magic started grabbing at her robes, but she forged ahead with her words, "You're calling _me _a slut? For all I know that guy who was with you is you're sex toy! You're probably sleeping around behind my back too, and you probably have been from even before we were married! Merlin knows that you have enough people willing to strip for you at your single glance! That guy with you today was probably some whore you picked up off the street! Good one Harry. I knew that you weren't really interested in me from your actions in bed, but to find out that you're gay? After five years of being married to me? You probably couldn't wait to get your hands on that guy, huh? You were probably fantasizing about thrusting your cock into him!"

Suddenly, all the rattling and the sparks of light stopped, Harry's magic losing its corporeal forms. Everything was shockingly silent after the disappearance of the rattling, the silence deafening in Draco's ears. Harry's magic was still there, though, almost bursting with the tangible rage, pulsing with fierce anger and dreadful pain. The sudden change in Harry was enough to have the Weaslette shut up, her freckles garish on her pale face, framed by that horrible mass of carrot hair. Harry was clenching his hands, his eyes closed as he fought to maintain his composure. "Get out," Harry whispered, though it was as loud as a shout in the silence.

The girl was about to argue, but Harry opened his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes were twisted with agony, and Draco felt his heart flutter in his chest with the all-consuming _need _to comfort the pain that shone through Harry's eyes. Without moving, Harry cast a silencing charm on the Weaslette, since she choked on whatever she was about to say and started coughing, without making a sound.

"Get out," Harry said again, this time in a voice as if he was stating the weather. When the Weaslette gave him a stare of rage over the hand covering her silent coughs, Harry walked around the table and stood in front of her, his face an emotionless mask and his eyes a chasm of agony.

"Get out." Shouted this time, Harry turned the Weaslette around to face the door with magic, as if he didn't want to even touch her. When the girl stubbornly refused to walk, and turned her head around to sneer at Harry, Harry's modicum of control was finally pushed over the edge.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Harry bellowed, his magic becoming corporeal once more and forming a gale of wind behind the girl. She was swept off her feet and left to dangle helplessly in the air, surrounded in a cocoon of whirlwind. The blast of air shot her through the house, down the corridor, and, after Kreacher appeared at exactly the right moment to open the door, Harry's magic thrust her out of the house and threw her into the street. Draco watched the Weaslette roll around on the pavement for a while with a satisfied smirk, before Kreacher slammed the door shut with a small huff.

Through the door, Draco heard the Weaslette screaming, "You'll pay for that, Harry! You bastard!" before a small pop to show that she had Disapparated. Draco almost wished that some Muggle might have seen her, so that she'd be arrested for improper display of magic in a Muggle community, and then she'd really be away from Harry for good.

Unfortunately, there were no screams from the street, which showed that the Weaslette hadn't been observed. Draco exuberantly jumped down the stairs to congratulate Harry on finally getting the bitch out of his house and away from him, when he saw that Harry was sitting slumped down in his chair, his head buried in his hands and looking as if he would collapse at any moment. Draco felt all his good humor draining away as a stab of something strange pierced his heart, and he staggered down the hallway towards Harry, every cell in his body yearning to be with the other man in his moment of need. Just as Draco reached the doorway, Harry let out a long, low, muffled sob full of all the hurt and anguish that he had been hiding, and the sound tore Draco's heart to pieces.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Thanks to all the people who are reading this so far, and everyone who put this story as a Favorite or an Alert. Reviews would be appreciated from anyone, even if they don't really have anything important to say. Any suggestions on how this story could go on? I'm sort of at a loss for what should happen next… Should I introduce Hermione and explain what happened to Ron?


	8. Confessions

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

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><p>Draco staggered with the wave of emotion that overcame him. He had never felt anything like it before, not with his friends, not with Pansy Parkinson – who had been his girlfriend when it had suited him, not even with his mother, whom he had thought he loved more than anything else in the world. It was a pressure on his chest, making it hard to breathe. It was a numbness in his limbs, making them sting and prickle. It was a weight on his mind, so that he could think of nothing else. But most of all, it was a deep ache in his heart, because of the knowledge that Harry was in pain.<p>

Draco leaned against the doorway for a moment, as if the sound of Harry's sob had somehow physically weakened him, so that he could barely stand. Pushing away from the doorway, Draco stumbled over to where Harry still had his head buried in his hands, his ebony hair tangling over his fingers. Tentatively reaching out with a shaking hand, Draco brushed the dark strands with the tips of his fingers, marveling at the luxurious softness of the hair, trying to comfort the other man.

Harry immediately flinched away from Draco's touch, springing out of his chair and crouching, as if he expected to be attacked. Draco quickly drew his hand back, trying to ignore the prickle of tears that came into his eyes at the rejection. Draco stared into Harry's eyes, which were glistening with unshed tears, a roiling mass of hidden torment. Harry's eyes were almost wild, and Draco knew that at that moment, Harry didn't recognize him through his own despair. Gathering his courage, Draco slowly drew closer to the crouched form, cautiously and quietly, treating Harry as if he was a startled creature that might dash away at the slightest provocation. Tenderly, Draco stretched out his hand once more, to gently brush the dark hair away from the beautiful green eyes that Draco had come to adore, his hand lingering on the man's strong brow and unlined forehead, admiring the smooth, unblemished skin.

The torment in Harry's eyes lessened somewhat at Draco's touch, so that reason was able to shine through once again. Recognition flickered in the depths of the now bottle green eyes, and so did awareness. Straightening abruptly to his feet, Harry gazed back at Draco in silence with hooded eyes, while Draco self-consciously dropped his hand from the sun-bronzed forehead. They stood there for a long time, neither willing to be the first to move. Draco felt a blush creeping up into his cheeks at Harry's continued scrutiny, and tried to stop it in vain before the other man noticed. His efforts were obviously futile, as, seeing the blush, Harry's eyes softened a bit from the iron control he had shown until then.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, his voice cracking, and what semblance of his composure that remained crumbled into pieces. For the first time, Harry's eyes were completely unguarded, baring his very soul to Draco, showing exactly how much agony he was undergoing. Draco was desperate to do anything to relieve some of the torment, but he didn't know if his efforts would help, or if they would even be welcome. Looking away from Draco, Harry clenched his hands hard, his magic swirling once more around the both of them, only this time it wasn't violent, only sad and aching. "Forgive me. I didn't mean for you to witness that. Please excuse me." Harry turned and quickly strode out of the kitchen, leaving Draco standing alone without looking back.

A sudden pang of déjà vu from the previous night struck Draco, and he narrowed his eyes. A spark of his old Malfoy persistence flared up, along with a good dose of pig-headed stubbornness. Draco vowed to himself that he wouldn't just let Harry walk away from him, and he knew that he would do anything to keep Harry from going up to his room and crying alone again.

Dashing out of the kitchen, Draco caught up with Harry just as he was reaching the stairs. Draco grabbed one of Harry's arms and spun him around, so that Harry's back was to the wall and he had no choice but to look at Draco. Draco kept his hand in a tight grip on the other man's arm, so that Harry wouldn't be able to push past him or move away from him. Forcing himself to ignore his pounding heart and increasing nervousness, Draco stared straight into Harry's eyes. "Harry Potter. You will not go up those stairs and lock yourself in that room again. You will stay here like a normal human being and tell me what the fuck is wrong."

Draco winced internally at his brusque manner of asking Harry to confide in him, but it was already said and he couldn't do anything about it. Draco made sure that his gaze was level, and he stared intently into those green orbs, in which so many barriers had been raised to the point that those astonishingly eloquent eyes looked almost expressionless, with only a shadow of pain. After more than a minute of silence, Draco could feel his breathing getting ragged. When the spike of adrenaline had worn off from his impulsive move, Draco was only starting to notice how close he was to Harry, their bodies almost touching as they stood together in the narrow hallway. Harry's arm burned Draco's hands where they touched, and Draco was sure that Harry could see the feelings that he so desperately tried to hide shining in his eyes.

Harry obviously saw something, since Draco watched as the first barrier of many fell away in Harry's gaze. "I don't want to burden you with my problems, Draco. It's late. We should go to our rooms." Harry's voice was tired, soft, and without inflection. His expressionless tone frightened Draco more than if Harry had shouted or sobbed, since it meant that Harry's feelings and thoughts were completely and expertly hidden. Draco spared a moment to wonder why Harry would ever have needed to master his emotions to such a degree, and what could have made him do so. Draco thought back to the redheaded bitch that was just kicked out of the house. An inkling of understanding dawned on Draco. If Harry had had to live the entire five years after the war married to that little slut, he would have needed the control.

"I don't care about the time. I want you to stay down here so that you don't go and cry alone." Draco squeezed Harry's arms, shifting so that he was just a tiny bit closer to Harry, their bodies almost touching with less than an inch of space in between.

Surprise flitted across Harry's handsome face, and another barrier went down. "How did you-" he began.

Draco didn't want to get Kreacher in trouble for revealing that Harry cried every night, so instead he avoided directly answering by posing a question of his own. "Why won't you tell me? Is it because of who I am?"

Draco dreaded the answer, but relief flooded through him when Harry gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "No, Draco. You're one of my closest friends now, and I don't care what you were before. It's just that," here Harry stopped, chewing with frustration on his lower lip. Draco wanted to kiss the frown away, and only just refrained from doing so when Harry continued, "I don't want to trouble you with my problems as well. You have enough problems of your own to deal with, and I can handle myself. I don't want to inconvenience you or anything."

"You think that I would think of your problems as an _inconvenience?_ Has it ever occurred to you that I might actually give a damn about how you feel? That I might want to share your problems so that I could make you feel even just a tiny bit better?" Draco felt himself tense with anger at Harry's thickheaded hero-complex. He thought himself an _inconvenience?_ After saving the entire wizarding world? He must've been joking. But a single glance into Harry's eyes and Draco knew it was the truth. That Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, didn't think anyone would give a shit about him.

Another barrier fell away in Harry's eyes at Draco's declaration, and tears began to fill those sparkling green eyes, while Harry gave Draco a small bittersweet smile that took his breath away. "Thank you, Draco. Please, let me go."

Draco felt all his previous anger returning. "I just told you, I want to know what your problems are. I want to know why you're in so much pain, and I want to make you smile again. Why can't you understand that?"

"Please, Draco, you don't want to hear my problems-"

"Yes, I am absolutely positive that I do, you numskull!" Draco shifted closer, so that their bodies were flush against one another, Harry's body trapped between Draco's and the wall. Draco could feel the pounding of Harry's heart, and he was certain that Harry could feel his own erratic pulse as well.

"Just let me go back to my room." A single tear trickled down Harry's cheek, wetting the thick black lashes, and Harry turned his face away. "Please," Harry begged.

"Tell me," Draco whispered, trying to convey all of his support into his eyes, so that Harry could see how much Draco wanted to help him. Raising a hand from Harry's arm, Draco gently wiped the tear away with a soft finger, guiding Harry's face back so that their eyes met again. Draco saw the last barrier fall away, and Harry let out a strangled sob, his tears beginning to flow.

His heart aching for the man, Draco clutched Harry to him as the man's body was wracked with sobs, his head lowered onto Draco's shoulder, green eyes hidden and raven dark locks falling over his back and tickling his neck. Draco absorbed Harry's warmth, and breathed in the calming scent of spring that seemed to emanate from Harry himself. They stood like that for a while, Harry slowly calming down enough so that he was no longer consumed by his tears. Draco experienced that strange feeling again, only this time it wasn't just in his guts, it was in his whole being. It enveloped him with warmth, and it seemed as if every cell in his body was hyper aware of the man in his arms.

Harry's words, when they came, were soft and fast, as if he had been hiding them for so long that they burst out in a flood. Harry's face was hidden in Draco's neck, his voice muffled so that Draco had to strain to hear him. "It all started after the war. After I defeated Voldemort my magic suddenly started going crazy and everything, and it seemed to just do stuff on its own, destroying stuff around me if I was angry, or hexing people around me if I was scared. Hermione and Ron took me to St. Mungo's, but they said that it was just all of my power, and nothing was wrong with it. They didn't do anything about this stupid aura that's around me all the time, so I went back to Hogwarts and talked with Dumbledore's portrait. He said that after I died and Voldemort's horcrux that was in me was destroyed, I was finally able to use all my power, since the horcrux was leeching my power from me all the time or something, so I wasn't actually using my full power before I died. So now I'm stuck with this goddamn magic leaking off of me and I can't do anything about it, and it's making me more of a freak than I already am. That was only the start."

"And then it all gets worse. I went back to Hogwarts to do my eighth year, since I wasn't at school at all during seventh year, and I wanted to finish school and get my N.E.W.T.'s. But the summer before I went back to Hogwarts Ginny asked me to marry her, and I thought I was in love with her and that we'd be perfect for each other, so I agreed, and we got married that summer. And all throughout summer I couldn't go anywhere without glamours and polyjuice, since I was literally mobbed several times. But then school started and everybody started treating me like some fucking _god, _and I just couldn't stand it. But Ginny was always dragging me along with her to parties and gatherings in the dorms and showing me off to her friends and it was so _embarrassing,_ having to sit there with a bunch of girls giggling around me and staring at me like I was a freak. After a few of these parties I got angry and my magic exploded, and Gryffindor Tower was under repairs for a _week_ and some people even got hurt. But everybody just started treating me even more special, and nobody got angry at all, even though it was _all my fault_. And that was when Ginny and I started to sort of drift apart, since I didn't want anything to do with her friends and her parties any more, but that was all _she_ wanted to do. Well, you know the rest of that story, seeing as Ginny just came in here and you probably already heard what became of our _marriage_." Harry's voice was bitter, and he practically spat out the word marriage. Draco shushed him, rubbing his back comfortingly. Harry drew a deep breath, and continues.

"During eighth year Ron and Hermione were together, and they were the only things that kept me sane throughout school. But Ron gradually became more and more distant, and Hermione said that it was because I had married Ginny, but I'm not some idiot that I couldn't see that my best friend was crazy with jealousy. I knew that Ron always wanted my life, and that he thought I just got everything for free, so I tried to explain, but he just got mad at me and we continued to have arguments about small stuff that doesn't even matter. After our N.E.W.T. exam results came back, Hermione got perfect in everything, of course, except Defense Against the Dark Arts, it turned out I got better scores than Ron did, and he wouldn't speak to me for a week after that. I didn't know what to do, but I guess Hermione talked to Ron and we sort of started talking again, though Ron was always kinda bitter after that."

"We tried out as Aurors the same time as well, and there was a written and practical examination. We were trying out as partners, so our practical was done together while the written was separate. We both did pretty well on the written, since Hermione had made us study for hours, but in the practical the examiners were fighting against us to see what we could do, and it was two-on-two so Ron and I both took an examiner. We were back-to-back and I was busy with my opponent, when I felt Ron just fall behind me. I honestly don't know what happened, I think it was just bad luck or overconfidence, but the examiner somehow _stupefied_ Ron. I did the only thing I could, so I raised a _protegro maxima_ around Ron and I quickly hit the person I had been fighting with a _petrificus totalus_, and then I disarmed Ron's opponent before binding him up with an _incarcerous_. But then the examiners said that Ron failed the practical, since he lacked speed or something like that, and I argued that he definitely should be allowed to pass, since we were so good as a team, and then the examiners said that we were so good only because of my ability to act under pressure or some other crap, so Ron was out and I was in as the most promising newbie there was. That was when Ron finally broke off what friendship we had left, cause he blamed me for the whole thing, and I tried to get him in, I swear, I talked to everybody there was, I even went to the Head Auror and the Minister of Magic, but they all said no. I even wanted to quit, but they wouldn't even let me do that. And then Ron just sort of, disappeared. He wasn't the Ron I knew anymore, he was drunk all the time and he cursed everyone who got close to him. Hermione soon ended things with Ron because of his behavior, but it just made him even more unpleasant. Now he doesn't do anything but sit around in the Burrow, drinking all the firewhiskey Arthur and Molly can get. And I can see it in their faces, every time I go to the Burrow; he's practically _killing _his own family. And it's _my fault. _They accepted me as a son, and I did this to them as repayment."

"And at work, Kingsley gives me all the hardest jobs, even though there're Aurors who're way more experienced than I am, and I ask Kingsley all the time to just treat me like all the regular Aurors, but he says that I'm the best and that's why I get the hardest jobs that he wouldn't give to anyone else. But the worse part is that none of the Aurors even care that I'm taking their jobs. They just give me the hardest jobs, even though I'm the youngest full-time Auror and the only one who works without a partner, and they expect me to complete the jobs perfectly. I have to literally barricade myself into my office when I'm at the ministry as well, just so that the reporters and fans don't eat me alive. I just can't stand everybody's fucking _expectations _of me. They just don't see that I'm not that hero everyone thinks I am. I killed Voldemort because I was the only one able to stop him, and it was just necessary so that everybody could be safe. I thought that I could live a normal life, a happy life, when the war was over. I've killed and tortured, I've stolen and lied, and I just wanted to live quietly and be myself. I thought I would have a happy family, some children, maybe, and I would have a regular job with my best friends. Was that too much to ask? Is that so unreasonable? But I guess I don't deserve that, do I? I've done so many horrible things during the war, I guess it's arrogant of me to expect so much. And now I've caused the people around me so much pain and hardship, just because of who I am. I'm a horrible person, aren't I, Draco? I don't deserve any of them; they trusted me, they put their faith and love in me, and I wrecked their lives."

Draco tightened his already firm grip on Harry, and Draco wondered how the man could ever think like that. To think that Harry didn't think himself deserving of at least the small happiness of friends and family, even after all he had done for the world. Harry's head was still buried in Draco's shoulder, and his arms had somehow found their way around Draco's waist, so that Harry was clutching at Draco as if he was the last lifeline that kept him afloat above his swirling misery.

Slowly, Harry slid down the wall that Draco was still pressing him against, and his arms around Draco's waist pulled Draco down with him. They ended up sitting in the hallway, with Harry leaning against the wall and Draco practically in his lap. Harry's head was finally visible again, and Harry was obstinately looking anywhere but at the man on his lap. Draco's arms were around Harry's neck, and Draco moved one hand so that he could smooth some of the tangled curls away from Harry's face. Harry flinched slightly at the touch, but relaxed again as Draco shushed him, softly caressing his face, his cheekbones, his brow. Draco finally put his hand under Harry's chin, gently guiding the man's eyes to his own. Harry's eyes were slightly swollen from the tears, but his eyes were an electrifying green from the recently shed tears, almost glowing in the darkness of the hallway. Their faces were mere inches apart, and all Draco had to do was lean forward and their lips would meet. Harry's piercing gaze took Draco's breath away, and Draco's mind suddenly went blank, all words forgotten. When a shadow of nervousness and doubt flickered across Harry's luminescent eyes, Draco realized that Harry was waiting for him to speak.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Thanks to nikitabell for a story suggestion. I'm thinking about how to incorporate it… And sorry to everybody who liked the Weasleys. Personally, I think the Weasleys are a great family, but I needed someone as the bad guys, and besides, I've never quite liked Ginny. As always, keep on reviewing!


	9. To Be Loved

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

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><p>Draco swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He knew that Harry had confided in him. He knew that Harry had revealed all the deepest secrets of his heart to him. He knew that he was probably the first person whom Harry had ever confided in, whom Harry had ever trusted with all of his darkest feelings and weaknesses. And yet when Draco looked into those excruciatingly beautiful green eyes, so close that he could count all the individual lashes that framed them, Draco's words left him. Harry was waiting for him to speak, to react to all that Harry had just revealed to Draco, and yet for the life of him Draco couldn't think of a single thing to say. All Draco could think about was their close proximity, and the fact that he was sitting on top of Harry already. Draco's breathing sped up and his chest tightened yet again, as he looked at the man before him. The knowledge of Harry's weaknesses and his flaws had not diminished him in Draco's eyes at all. On the contrary, Draco truly looked at Harry for the first time, and was able to see the wonderfully kind but shy man underneath the strikingly handsome exterior. It made Draco feel that gut clenching once again, and Draco closed his eyes as the feeling washed over him, penetrating to his very core. The feeling was one of pure bliss, and yet, it was tinged with longing and desire. It was almost as if-<p>

With a gasp, Draco's eyes fluttered open. He was in love with Harry Potter.

Harry's eyes filled with hurt at the gasp, since Draco still hadn't said anything, and he moved to get out from under Draco, the barriers in his eyes snapping tight once more. Almost shoving Draco off of him, Harry got to his feet. "Well, don't blame me now that you know what's wrong with me," Harry spat at Draco, who was still sitting, confused, on the ground. "I don't even know why I told you everything in the first place. For a moment there, I thought you changed. I thought you were different from the spoiled brat you were at school. For a moment there, I trusted you. It was probably the stupidest thing I've ever done, which is really saying something, _Malfoy._ Good night."

Harry spun around and stalked up the stairs. Draco cursed himself and surged to his feet. Harry thought that Draco was disgusted with him, Draco knew, since the only thing Harry saw was Draco gasping after hearing all of his troubles. Harry didn't know that Draco thought he was the single most precious man in the world. Harry didn't know Draco desperately wanted him to be happy. Harry didn't know that Draco loved him. And because of that, Harry thought that Draco was mocking him for his fears.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Draco caught up to Harry, and for the second time that night, Draco grabbed Harry's arm and forcefully spun him around to face him. Anger sparked in Harry's eyes, and his magic started to swirl ominously. "What do you think you're doing Malfoy-" Harry began, but he was silenced by Draco's lips.

Draco gasped as he leaned forward and crushed his mouth to Harry's. It was the best thing Draco had ever felt in his life. Harry's lips were soft and warm under his own, and they tasted like sweet, fresh spring rain, a little salty from the tears that Harry had just shed. Though Harry had stiffened and wasn't responding, Draco lingered on the kiss, trying to convey all of his emotion through the soft caress.

Draco drew back self-consciously when Harry remained unresponsive in his arms. Looking up into Harry's eyes, Draco saw that they were a shade he had never seen before, though they were still guarded by the walls Harry had raised. "Malfoy?" Harry asked, his voice soft and questioning, all traces of anger gone.

"Call me Draco," Draco whispered back, leaning forwards once more to brush his lips against Harry's. This time Harry responded, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist and pulling them together until they were pressed against each other. Draco gasped in surprise, his arms going automatically around Harry's neck, his hands tangling themselves in the wild mass of black hair. Draco's gasp was all Harry needed to reach his tongue into Draco's mouth, and Draco moaned at the sensation. Draco's own tongue eagerly joined Harry's, exploring Harry's mouth, tasting his lips, while Draco's hands kept up a firm pressure on the back of Harry's head.

Drawing back for breath, Draco saw that they were both breathing hard, and Harry's eyes were that strange shade again. Brushing the hair away from Harry's eyes, Draco looked up at Harry, a silent question in his eyes. Harry understood, and leaned forwards again. "Yes," Harry breathed, before their lips met again.

This time, there was nothing exploratory or indecisive about the kiss. Harry fiercely claimed Draco's mouth, his arms crushing Draco's body to his own. Draco groaned as his arousal brushed against Harry's leg, and Harry gasped. Draco felt a moment of embarrassment, before Harry released one arm from around his waist and hesitantly brushed his hand against Draco's erection. The touch, so tantalizingly soft against his length, almost drove Draco to madness. Extricating one hand from the dark mass of Harry's hair, Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and placed his hand right where he wanted it. Harry hissed at the sudden contact, but his hand was soon moving, caressing Draco through the fabric of his pants.

Draco got even harder, if that was possible, and he dragged Harry's mouth back to his own, sucking on Harry's delicious lips and inhaling the heady scent of Harry. Draco was panting, grinding himself harder against Harry's hand. It felt so _good._ Draco had never thought that it was possible to feel so aroused in his life. Gasping, Harry broke free of Draco's mouth for an instant, mumbling, "Bedroom," before having his mouth reclaimed. Draco nodded without breaking the contact of their lips, and shuffled them both down the hallway to his bedroom.

Tumbling through the door, Draco's fingers fumbled for the buttons of Harry's plaid shirt, hastily unbuttoning the shirt and sliding it off of Harry's arms. Draco's hands explored the hard, wiry muscles of Harry's arms, and the smoothness of Harry's chest through the thin fabric of his undershirt. Harry groaned as Draco's fingers traced over his nipples, lowering to caress his abdomen before lifting his undershirt and placing a cool hand on Harry's sun-bronzed stomach, lifting the undershirt with the other hand to pull it over Harry's head. Breaking the kiss for a few seconds, Harry ripped the undershirt over his head and threw it somewhere behind him, turning back to Draco.

Harry quickly unzipped Draco's vest, letting the expensive leather fall to the floor. When the tight shirt proved to take too long to get off, Harry growled in frustration and waved his hands over Draco, banishing all of his clothes to leave Draco naked in front of him. Draco shivered as the cool air suddenly surrounded him, until he was drawn once more back into the warmth of Harry's arms. Everywhere their skin touched felt like it was on fire, and Draco's hands wandered everywhere over Harry, stroking his arms, tangling in his hair, running over his back, brushing lightly over his smooth chest.

Harry whimpered at the feel of Draco's cool hands on his skin, and he reached down, taking Draco in his hand. Draco hissed, his fingers digging into Harry's back. Harry chuckled, though the sound was quickly muffled as Draco bit his lip for laughing. Draco arched his back, thrusting into Harry's hand and making soft little sounds that only heightened Harry's desire.

Harry pushed Draco down on the bed, and Draco looked up at the man, vision tinted red with need. Draco knew that he would probably regret doing this later, but at the moment all he wanted was Harry. Harry crawled over Draco, keeping their bodies just a tantalizing half-inch apart. Draco could feel the heat that radiated from Harry's skin, and his blood pounded at the warmth. Forcefully pulling Harry down on top of him, so that their bodies were pressed together, Draco claimed Harry's lips once more while Harry removed the rest of his clothes with a wave of his hand, and their bare skin came into contact down the entire length of their bodies.

Gasping at the feel of Harry against him, Draco arched upwards, pressing himself more firmly against Harry. Chuckling into his mouth, Harry left a trail of kisses down Draco's neck and chest, licking his nipples until they were red and sore. Descending still further, Harry made his way down Draco's stomach, occasionally nipping the skin and making Draco flinch. Going down, Harry tentatively ran his tongue lightly over Draco's shaft, as if testing whether Draco would welcome the touch. Draco definitely did, and he involuntarily thrust up as he felt the tantalizing touch of Harry's tongue on his arousal.

Grinning, Harry began to lick and kiss, tasting Draco and making him go crazy with his burning desire. Harry ran his tongue over the vein on the underside of Draco's shaft, and Draco groaned as a wave of intense pleasure rolled over him. Kissing just the tip of Draco's length, Harry ran his tongue over the slit, tasting the bitter pre-cum and licking it off of the leaking head. Hearing Draco's whines intensify, Harry finally took Draco in his mouth, swallowing Draco whole so that Harry's lips brushed Draco's smooth navel. Draco could see stars exploding behind his eyelids, and almost blacked out from the sheer satisfaction of feeling Harry's warm, wet mouth around his erect length. Harry hummed around Draco, and the vibration caused Draco to arch uncontrollably deeper into Harry's mouth, squirming and twisting his fingers into the bed sheets.

Harry sucked and licked, sometimes drawing his lips away until Draco was almost free, and then plunging in again down to the very base. Draco whimpered, whispering Harry's name over and over as he thrust into Harry's mouth, one hand lifting to press Harry's head closer and to tangle in the dark curls. Harry sucked and hummed, sending Draco into ever increasing spirals of pleasure, until Harry finally breathed out with Draco still in his mouth. The cool air on Draco's heated length caused him to tumble over the edge, coming into Harry's mouth with a shout of Harry's name.

Draco sagged back against the pillows after the final throes of his orgasm; feeling more sated than he had ever thought was possible. Though it was obviously Harry's first time with a man, he was incredible with his mouth. Looking down at where Harry was grinning between Draco's legs, Draco felt a sense of contentment and something akin to joy. Being in love was definitely enjoyable, Draco decided, especially when it meant that his lover was someone as devastatingly handsome and endlessly kind as Harry. Swallowing the fluid of Draco's orgasm, Harry licked his lips and crawled up the bed to take Draco's mouth in his. Draco tasted himself in Harry's mouth, mixed in with Harry's unmistakably fresh and earthy taste. Deepening the kiss, Draco could feel himself begin to harden again, as Harry stroked him with one hand.

Realizing that Harry wasn't yet satisfied, Draco took Harry in his own hand. Harry hissed at the contact, and Draco looked into Harry's green eyes to see them darker than he had ever seen them, almost crackling with burning desire. Smiling to himself, Draco moved his other hand to grab Harry's free one, guiding Harry's hand to his entrance. Harry's eyes widened in question, and Draco answered by flipping onto his back, leaving himself wide open and completely vulnerable and exposed. But Draco trusted Harry, loved him, and gave himself over entirely to Harry.

Seeing the evident trust in Draco's eyes, Harry smiled at him and flipped him back over. "Face me," Harry whispered hoarsely, "I want to see you." Harry silently waved his hands, immediately coating his fingers and his arousal with enough lube that Draco wouldn't feel too much pain.

Draco's answering words were lost as he gasped at the feel of Harry's slick finger enter him, moving and exploring. During Draco's exile in the Muggle world he had experimented with men, of course, during his fits of depression or rage. But he had never let himself bottom, not willing to put himself at the mercy of anyone else. But with Harry it was different. Harry was gentle, thoughtful, like a warm summer breeze that enveloped Draco in sweet, hazy pleasure. Draco closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of Harry's fingers inside him. Harry added another finger and began to probe deeper, thrusting his hand evenly in time and establishing a constant rhythm. Draco hooked his legs over Harry's shoulders, so that Harry would have better access to his entrance, arching to meet Harry's thrusting hand. When Harry added a third finger and pushed, Draco felt Harry brush something deep inside him, causing his insides to turn liquid and an intense pleasure to radiate through him.

Clenching down as the pleasure engulfed him, Draco moaned out loud, his fingers digging into the skin of Harry's back. Arching up into Harry's hand, Draco almost came again at the exquisite feeling. Harry withdrew his fingers then, ignoring Draco's whimpers of disappointment, only to position himself between Draco's legs. Looking at Draco, Harry's bright green eyes burned with his question. Draco didn't think his mouth would be able to properly convey his answer, so instead Draco thrust up, impaling himself on Harry.

They both cried out loud. Draco had never felt anything like it. Having Harry inside him was the most agonizingly sweet feeling he had ever experienced, and the initial pain soon gave way to heat. Opening his eyes, which had closed of their own accord, Draco looked up at Harry. His eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, and he was grinning down tenderly at Draco. "Move," Draco managed to growl out.

Harry obeyed instantly, slowly drawing out and thrusting in again. After a few more thrusts, Harry managed to position himself just right and hit Draco's prostate, making Draco yell and tighten his legs around Harry's shoulders. Harry laughed, low and deep, thrusting harder and faster while hitting Draco's prostate each time. Draco didn't think he would be able to last, his vision was dimming and he was mindless with pleasure, and he was vaguely aware of making incredibly indecent sounds that he would be embarrassed about for months afterwards. Draco arched upwards in time to Harry's thrusts, burying Harry down to his base each time and letting him draw back until he almost slipped out.

Harry took Draco in his hand as he continued thrusting, stroking him in time to his own thrusts and running his thumb over the sensitive head, poking lightly into the slit. Draco groaned as he felt another wave of pleasure wash through him, and arched up even higher to meet Harry's plunges. The steady rhythm became faster and more erratic, as both of them neared their release. Harry stroked Draco harder, until Draco couldn't stand the pressure building up anymore, and screamed his release as he came all over Harry and himself, the white liquid spilling onto the twisted sheets.

When Draco came, he clenched down hard on Harry, and the sudden pressure made Harry come as well, shooting his seed down Draco's hole. Collapsing with the release and thrusting slowly a few more times, Harry tumbled down on top of Draco, catching himself at the last moment with his elbows upon the bed to avoid crushing Draco under his weight. They were both panting, riding out the last few waves of their orgasm.

When Draco was at last able to move, he wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him down, so they were lying side by side on the bed, Draco's head on Harry's arm and Harry's other arm looped casually around his waist. Harry grinned at him sleepily, looking completely satisfied and glowing with happiness. Draco felt his own expression soften into a smile, the first true smile without any barriers that he had ever showed anyone besides his mother. Harry drew Draco closer, waving a hand and vanishing their mess away. Draco snuggled into Harry's warmth, shivering slightly as the heat of their lovemaking slowly faded away. Harry pulled the blankets up around them both, softly stroking Draco's hair as they lay together.

"Draco?" Harry murmured, his eyes half closed. Draco opened his eyes, which had fallen shut, and gazed sleepily at his lover.

"Hmm?" Draco replied, his brain fuzzy with pleasure and exhaustion.

"Why?" It was one word, but it snapped Draco out of his soft cocoon of sleepiness. Said softly, almost whispered, the question meant so much more than the tone used to say it. Harry was gazing intently at Draco, tenderness in his eyes, but also a hint of desperation. Draco knew that everything depended on his answer, that if he answered wrong, Harry would probably go back to hiding everything from him, and would treat him with the same fake happiness that he treated everyone else with. Draco didn't want that, and he had no idea how to tell Harry everything he was feeling. So Draco settled on the absolute truth, five little words whispered with as much passion as Draco could.

"Because I love you, Harry."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I got so many story alerts and favorites! And I got more reviews as well! :D Thanks to everyone that put this story on alert or favorite and thanks to everyone that reviewed. Reviews make me happy. Sorry for taking so long to update. I try to keep it to a chapter per week, but sometimes I get lazy. Anyways, this is my first time writing a scene like this, so don't get angry at me. As always, keep reviewing!


	10. Pleading Guilty

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

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><p>Disbelief flickered in the depths of those emerald eyes, and Draco panicked. He had basically revealed everything about himself to Harry, and if Harry rejected him, it would break him, utterly and wholly. Draco knew his heart would shatter if Harry rejected him, and for an instant Draco wished to take his words back, to pretend that they were never said.<p>

But the feeling disappeared in the next moment. The smile Harry gave Draco was enough to make his heart melt and his breathing hitch. It was a smile of such joy and radiance that Draco knew instantly he had said the right thing. Harry pulled Draco closer, so that Draco was firmly ensconced within the circle of Harry's arms, surrounded by Harry's clean rainy scent. "Thank you, Draco," Harry whispered into Draco's hair.

Draco felt warmth, happiness. Though he was a bit disappointed that Harry hadn't said that he loved him back, Draco knew that Harry would have to think it over, and a thank you was all he was ready to give. For now. Draco sighed and snuggled closer to Harry's chest, pushing his fears and worries away. He was in bed with Harry, and Harry knew that Draco loved him. That was more than Draco had ever expected to receive. That was all Draco needed, and it was enough. Draco listened for a while as Harry's breathing deepened in sleep. Draco smiled to himself, looking up at Harry's peaceful, sleeping face, at the curls that tumbled across the pillows, and the gentle pulse at his neck. Closing his eyes, Draco sighed contentedly. He was Harry's, and nothing in the world would be able to change that fact.

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><p>The next morning dawned bright and clear. Draco groaned, stretching languidly beneath the covers, keeping his eyes closed and relishing in the delicious memory of last night. Smiling, Draco felt the sunlight on his face, and even heard some birds chirping outside. Everything was perfect.<p>

Slowly opening his eyes, Draco looked over to Harry's side of the bed, still smiling. The smile slipped off his face, though, when he saw that it was empty. He was alone, and Harry had gone.

Scrambling over to Harry's side of the bed, Draco felt the covers. They were cold. Heart thudding, Draco looked at the bedside table. Harry's wand wasn't there. Frantically looking around, Draco saw that Harry's clothes from yesterday were gone, and his own clothes were piled up neatly on the chair. As if nothing had ever happened.

Anger and mortification welled up within Draco, and he felt tears prick his eyes. Pulling the sheet up around his waist to cover himself, Draco stood up, grabbing his wand from where it had dropped on the floor. He had thought Harry was fine being with him, he had believed that Harry had accepted him. Draco furiously kicked the bed, wincing at the pain. Despair flooded through him, as he thought about his confession to Harry. Had it meant so little? Had Harry dismissed it as a lie? Draco let out a small sob, feeling the tears start to run down his cheeks. Harry was probably gone, and it wouldn't matter whether he cried or not, since no one was there anyways. There was nothing more to hide. Draco had revealed everything to Harry, and Harry had left.

More pain and anguish than Draco had ever experienced, even more than when he had been exiled alone in the Muggle world, swept through him. Furiously swiping at his tears, Draco shot a _reducto_ at the closet. Wood and clothing exploded, sending splinters and scraps of cloth flying everywhere. Draco continued to cast, causing all the furniture in the room to explode in a mass of dust and splinters, the mattress erupting in a cloud of feathers. Draco couldn't stop, even if he wanted to. He continued to destroy everything in the room, no matter how small. When everything had been reduced to nothing more than splintered shards of the once beautiful furniture, Draco finally sagged onto the floor, shoulders shaking and letting the tears fall down his face. He was alone, so it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, light and urgent. Draco suppressed the immediate hope that it was Harry, that Harry hadn't left after all, that Harry might love him back, even just a bit. Even though Draco tried to tell himself that it wasn't Harry, he still got up from the floor and stumbled a few steps towards the door. "Who's there?" he called out, his voice shaking and muffled from his tears. The footsteps on the stairs stopped, and everything fell into silence once more. A creak told Draco that someone was definitely outside the door, though they were trying to be silent. Something was wrong. Harry wouldn't do that, wouldn't try and sneak in. The person on the other side of the door wasn't Harry.

The back of Draco's neck prickled, and he gripped his wand harder. Whoever was on the other side of the door wasn't supposed to be there, which was obvious from the way the person unsuccessfully tried to be quiet. Draco swallowed the sudden panic that overwhelmed him. In the last few weeks, he had always relied on Harry to protect him, had known that Harry's strength was his shield. Draco's magic was still not as strong as it had been before his five-year exile, and Draco had taken it for granted that Harry had always been there, constant and immovable. But now that Harry was gone, Draco was alone and had no one to depend on but himself.

The doorknob slowly turned, the latch clicking as it was released. Draco got ready with his wand. The door opened slowly, gliding on silent hinges, moving an inch at a time. As soon as Draco could see the figure of the person who stood shadowed in the doorway, Draco shouted "_Expelliarmus," _and fired a jet of red light towards the figure.

"_Protego,"_ a female voice screamed, followed immediately by "_Incarcerous."_

Ropes appeared immediately, whipping around Draco and tripping him to the floor, binding him tightly. Draco fell heavily onto his back, his head snapping on the hard wooden floor and causing black spots to dance across his vision. Gasping, Draco shook his head, desperately trying to raise his wand. A foot stomped down on his hand; the high-heeled shoe stabbing into his wrist and forcefully making Draco let go of the wand still clutched in his hand. Squinting past the black spots that threatened to consume his sight, Draco looked down at the shoe pressed on his hand, his gaze moving up to take in bright crimson robes etched with gold, a crumpled white shirt underneath the red robes, and a sweep of long red hair. Draco finally looked into the face of the figure, meeting the furious brown eyes of Ginny Potter.

Her face was red and blotchy from her anger, and it made her face look even more ugly than normal, which, Draco thought, was quite an accomplishment. "Ginevra," Draco greeted her, his voice cold. Draco tried not to think about his current situation, lying naked on the floor with nothing but a sheet around his waist, unarmed and totally at the mercy of Harry's cheating wife, after a night with Harry and being abandoned in the morning.

"Malfoy," Ginny spat, her face turning redder, "What the _fuck _are you doing in Harry's house?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Weaslette. It seems to me that you and Harry aren't on the best of terms right now, what with you whoring around behind his back," Draco sneered. He was inching his hand towards his wand, though it was a difficult process, what with Ginny's shoe on his wrist.

Ginny stomped down harder with her pointy shoe, making Draco wince as the sharp heel dug into his flesh. "Shut _up," _Ginny hissed, spittle flying down into Draco's face. "You _filth, _how _dare_ you talk down to me? You're _nothing. _You're not even supposed to _be _here. What, tired of the Muggle world, and thinking of breaking into Harry's house? If I turn you in they'll put you in Azkaban for _life."_

Draco felt empty inside, lying on the ground at the mercy of the redheaded bint. Draco knew Harry probably didn't care about him anyways, since he had just disappeared off to Merlin knows where. There wasn't any point of resisting, anyways. Besides, Draco had thought about death before. Azkaban couldn't be much worse, despite the horrible stories about it. Draco sighed and smiled, a cold, empty smile that made Ginny shiver involuntarily. "Go ahead," Draco said conversationally, as if discussing the weather, "Turn me in. I won't resist. That should be easy enough for you to do. Or do you want me to write some instructions?"

Ginny screeched in rage and kicked Draco in the ribs, hard. Draco choked as the breath was forced out of him. Ginny didn't even give Draco time to recover when she kicked him again, this time in the groin. Doubling up on the ground, Draco fell into darkness as Ginny continued to kick him, and his last thought before sinking into the blessed silence of unconsciousness was whether Harry would miss him.

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><p>Draco woke up in a cell. He wasn't in Azkaban. Yet. The cell had some light filtering in through a barred window, and Draco suddenly knew where he was. He was in the holding cells at the Ministry, which were for criminals awaiting trial before the Wizengamot. Draco smiled, though it held no warmth. He remembered the cell from five years ago, before the trial that had exiled him to the Muggle world. Draco felt a curious sense of déjà vu, experiencing the same emptiness and desperation that he had the first time he had been awaiting trial, only this time, his parents weren't there with him, and he was completely alone.<p>

Draco tried to move his hands, but they were chained together. Looking down at himself, Draco noted that he was still clothed in the now filthy sheet from his bed. At least they wouldn't make him go on trial naked, Draco thought without emotion. Draco didn't particularly care anymore what he looked like to other people, but Draco knew it was always slightly cold in the trial chambers, and Draco didn't want to be shivering in his seat. Sighing, Draco crawled over to the wall and pulled himself into a sitting position. He ached everywhere, and he was pretty sure several ribs and his nose was broken. He would have to remember to thank the Weaslette for her handiwork later, if he ever saw her again.

Draco closed his eyes, willing himself to not think about what Harry would say, when he read the news of the trial. This time, Harry wouldn't be there to stand up for Draco before the Wizengamot; he wouldn't be there to save Draco from the terrors of Azkaban. Tears silently made their way down Draco's cheeks, marking tracks through Draco's dirty face as Draco cried himself to sleep.

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><p>The door to the cell clanked open. Draco blearily opened his eyes, groaning as his whole body complained with pain. Looking at himself, Draco saw he was covered with blue and black bruises, his pale skin now a kaleidoscope of different colors. Draco sighed and closed his eyes again, wishing that whoever had opened his cell door would go away and he could go back to sleep.<p>

"Hey, come on. Haven't got all day," said a gruff voice.

Draco opened his eyes again, squinting against the light of the _lumos_ that his jailor held. "Excuse me, but I believe I am in need of some help getting up, please," Draco said politely, though his mouth felt as if it was full of sand, so the words came out somewhat muffled.

The guard seemed to understand. "Auror's doing, eh?" he nodded sympathetically. "You must've resisted quite a bit, to get so banged up. The Death Eaters they bring around here aren't usually so colorful."

Draco wondered how on earth the man knew he had been a Death Eater, when he suddenly realized that his left forearm, which he usually hid underneath a sleeve, was completely exposed in his half-naked state. Draco quickly turned his arm so the Dark mark would be hidden from the jailor's gaze. The jailor noted the movement, since his eyes flickered to Draco's arm, but otherwise he didn't comment on it. Draco sent a silent thanks to the jailor for being so considerate. Draco was ashamed of the mark on his skin, and he wanted nothing more than to have it gone. He had even tried cutting himself to get it off, but the skin had just healed over and the mark had stayed.

The man walked into the cell, first securing his wand well away from Draco's reach, and pulled Draco up to his feet. Draco swayed a bit, and the jailor steadied him with a hand on his elbow. "Thank you," Draco mumbled, before shuffling out of the cell, the shackles that chained both his hands and feet clanking against the ground. The jailor led him past rows of cells, all holding criminals awaiting trial before the Wizengamot. Jeers and whistles followed Draco as he walked by, the other inmates shouting crude and vulgar comments about his lack of clothing. Draco ignored them, and walked by with his head held high. It was in moments like these that his Malfoy pride shone through, displaying his high-born status and his pureblood dignity.

The jailor made him sit on a chair covered with spikes. Draco complied without argument, remembering the same process from five years ago. After arranging his chained limbs into a semblance of comfort upon the steel chair, the jailor stepped back and the chair Draco sat on was levitated up, through a hole that magically opened above.

Draco emerged into the trial chamber, within the special cage that held the criminals that were put on trial. The cage was lined with spikes on the inside, to make sure that the prisoner never got too close to the people outside the metal cage. Draco looked up, facing once again the complete Wizengamot, while Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, sat on a raised dais before him, looking sternly down at the proceedings. Draco saw the Weaslette sitting slightly off to the side, smirking at him. Draco shook his head. It was to be expected that the Weaslette would be at his trial. She was the one who had found him in Harry's house and turned him in, after all.

Once everyone got settled into their seats and the paper shuffling had stopped, Shacklebolt began. "Draco Lucius Malfoy. You are present here today before the Wizengamot for being accused of breaking your imposed exile from the wizarding world from your sentence five years ago, and also of breaking and entering a fellow wizard's private home, destroying a fellow wizard's private property, resisting arrest, assaulting an Auror, and stealing your confiscated wand from the wizard that had won it from you in a fair duel. Do you have any objections or additions to these aforementioned accusations?"

The accusations were all wrong, but there was no point fighting. Nobody would believe him anyways. It was his word, the word of an ex-Death Eater and a previously sentenced man, against Auror Ginevra Potter's word, the wife of Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World and best Auror in the department. Everybody would dismiss any arguments he made as the lies of a previously convicted criminal, except maybe Harry. Draco turned away from that thought. Harry had left him; Harry didn't love him. It was useless to think about him and torture himself. Draco took a deep breath and stared straight at Shacklebolt, his gaze unwavering. "No."

After a brief moment of rearranging his files, Shacklebolt looked down at Draco again. "What do you plead?"

Draco's thoughts went once more to Harry. Harry would want him to plead innocent, to try and fight against his accusers and prove that he was blameless. Or would he? Draco honestly didn't know anymore, and Harry's disappearance after their night together hurt Draco more than he would ever admit, tearing his heart and soul apart bit by bit until nothing was left but bloody scraps. Draco closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry again in front of the entire Wizengamot. When he was sure he had regained his composure, Draco looked up at Shacklebolt once more. "I plead guilty."

A wave of whispers went up around the chamber, and cameras for the papers snapped. Shacklebolt even looked momentarily surprised, before clearing his throat loudly and regaining order in the courtroom. "The accused has pled guilty. All accusations have been affirmed. I decree that the accused be sentenced to life in Azkaban, for his violations against the Magical Code of Conduct, and for violating the terms previously set at his trial after the War."

Shacklebolt picked up the gavel and lifted it. Draco closed his eyes and clenched his hands together, waiting for the sound that would seal his fate.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Yay. Another chapter done during the weekend. Unexpected story twist, huh? Keep reading though. We're almost done. Sorry about the continued Ginny bashing. Although from the reviews I take it that nobody really likes the Weasleys much anyway, except for the twins. Review please!


	11. Defending Dragons

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

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><p>Raised voices sounded on the other side of the massive oak doors that led out from the courtroom. The doors muffled the words, but the sounds were clearly audible in the silent chamber. Shacklebolt set his gavel softly back down onto the desk he sat behind, half rising out of his chair with a frown on his face, looking towards the doors. Mumbles and whispers rippled throughout the room, as the members of the Wizengamot all looked towards the door, all wondering who would dare disturb a criminal trial in session. The raised voices outside turned to shouts, and the noises of a brief scuffle followed before the oak doors exploded inwards, the burst of magic that did it racing through the courtroom, ruffling papers and robes and carrying the scent of earth and fresh spring rain.<p>

Some of the Wizengamot members screamed, while a few raised their wands and cast stuns and hexes into the cloud of dust that the explosion had created in the doorway. Shacklebolt was fully standing now, his wand raised and ready. Draco's eyes snapped open as soon as the magic brushed against his skin, playing over his hair. The feel of that magic was achingly familiar, and Draco closed his eyes and basked in the warmth as the magic enveloped him. Draco knew of only one wizard with magic that had a scent, more specifically that rainy, fresh scent of spring and outdoors. Jerking his head in the direction of the doors, Draco rose out of his chair as much as the small cage around him allowed, his chained hands wrapping around two of the spikes in the cage. Draco felt his already dry mouth get even drier, and his heart thumped in his ears. Everything that was happening felt ethereal, as if he was dreaming. It just couldn't be. It was impossible. Draco couldn't allow himself to believe, but the hope still welled up inside his heart, his shoulders shaking with the force of his desperate wish.

Draco saw the Weaslette stand up from her position beside the central dais on which Shacklebolt sat from the corner of his eye, drawing her own wand and standing ready for attack. Draco sneered at the girl-weasel. She had been married to Harry for five years, and she hadn't bothered to even notice the distinctive feel of Harry's magic, something Draco had automatically sensed when Harry had first brought him to Grimmauld place. If she had ever cared at all about Harry, she would have realized by just the feel of his magic that he was there, like Draco had. It just further went to prove Draco's theory that the Weasels themselves were a useless family of stupid blood-traitors that only survived the war mostly in one piece due to Harry's protection and sacrifice.

The dust slowly swirled and settled down in the doorway, revealing a shimmering shield that crackled with blue energy, having been cast wandlessly and silently to protect against the hexes that members of the Wizengamot had fired into the dust cloud by the door. The shield created a translucent film in the air, and as it slowly dissolved it revealed behind it long, impressive crimson robes edged with gold, a crisp white undershirt, neat black pants, wildly curling raven dark hair, and burning eyes of green fire. Hair and robes fluttering in the breeze created by his magic that swirled around him, Harry Potter slowly strode into the chamber, the intense magical aura around him creating heat waves in the air, making everything shimmer and waver. Draco gasped at the completely exhilarating feel of barely restrained strength that pulsed through the atmosphere along with Harry's magic, shivering as he felt electricity crackle in the room. The magical lights fixed to the ceiling of the courtroom flickered from the magical interference. The entire chamber, which had been filled with screams and shouts a moment before, was now enveloped in shocked silence.

Harry's gaze as he walked into the courtroom never once wavered from that of Draco's, the green eyes piercing into Draco's very soul. Draco could feel the tattered remains of his heart gain life once again, and his body strained against the shackles and the cage that contained him; longing to go to the man he loved.

When Harry was finally in the center of the courtroom, he stood facing Draco, his back turned to Shacklebolt and the rest of the Wizengamot. Harry lowered his head a fraction, looking up at Draco through his long dark lashes and giving him a small secret smile, specially meant for him, filled with such tender apology and affection. Draco's aching heart skipped a beat, and hope surged up within him, this time flying on the wings of joy. Harry was here. Harry had come to save him, and Draco knew that once Harry made up his mind, Harry wouldn't ever let him go.

Regaining his composure, Draco slowly sat back down on the spiked chair meant for criminals, adopting a bland, emotionless expression, though inside he was elated. It would do no good to let everyone witness how close he was to Harry, after all, if they wanted to have any chance at all for him to be cleared of all charges. Draco thought back once again to that morning when the Weaslette had first found him and beat him, when he had woken up and found Harry gone from their bedroom. A stab of hurt and a storm of anger welled up within Draco at Harry for abandoning him, quickly overriding his joy at seeing the man. For the life of him Draco could not understand why Harry had left, why he had woken up in an empty room in a cold bed after confessing his love. Once the trial was finished, no matter what the final verdict, Draco vowed, he was going to have some words with the great Harry Potter.

Observing Draco's bland expression, and the rage that swirled ominously in his eyes, Harry's emerald gaze darkened with worry. Taking a step closer to Draco, Harry moved as if he would cross the space that separated them and reach for Draco through the bars of the cage, but Draco minutely shook his head. Harry frowned, but then nodded grimly as understanding dawned. It would do neither of them any good for the Wizengamot to see how close Harry and Draco had become. Besides, Draco looked angry enough to do something rash should Harry go near. Perhaps something along the lines of punching that beautiful face before kissing him senseless.

Glancing once more at Draco, indecision was evident in Harry's eyes, his instinct to ease Draco's anger and hurt warring with his duty to clear Draco's name in the trial. When Shacklebolt said, "Harry Potter," in his deep voice, Harry seemed to remember where he was, and he reluctantly turned to face Shacklebolt, his back now to Draco. Looking up at where Shacklebolt sat on his dais, Harry took a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders and his eyes blazing with conviction once more, Harry met Shacklebolt's furious gaze with his own.

There was a soft choking sound from somewhere off to Draco's right, and Draco flicked his gaze towards the sound. It seemed that the Weaslette had shook herself out of her stupor when Harry had first come in, and was furiously looking at Harry, her face livid and blotchy. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, and Draco frowned at the sight. He knew the Weasleys were ugly, being filthy blood-traitors and all, but Ginny just took the definition of the term to new heights. Draco spared a moment to wonder what on earth had gotten the Weaslette so worked up, but his attention was drawn once more to where Harry stood, his back all Draco could see.

"Harry Potter," Kingsley said again, "I hope there is a good reason for your interruption while a criminal trial is in session." Kingsley was obviously enraged, though there was also a fair bit of curiosity buried behind his deep voice at what could possibly have made Harry Potter, usually the most rule-abiding and discreet of those in the Ministry's employ, literally fight his way into the courtroom while a trial was going on, instead of waiting until the trial had finished and seeking a private audience afterwards. Kingsley had to admit to himself that he felt a certain regard for the young Auror, who, at barely twenty-two years of age, had been able to successfully and single-handedly take down more Dark wizards and make more arrests than the average pair of veteran Auror partners.

Harry cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was loud and clear, ringing through the courtroom. "I realize that I have displayed unprecedented behavior in interrupting this criminal court case, and for that I ask your forgiveness." There were a couple of nods and small smiles at Harry's apology, which apparently appeased most of the Wizengamot's disgruntled senses of dignity. But Harry, after a short pause, continued. "I will state my reasons as to my disrespectful means of entry into this courtroom. It is in my understanding that under the Magical Code of Conduct, section 8.14 subscript 7, that all accused criminals are under the right to voice a defense against their accusations, and that said criminals are allowed to choose the members that make up said defense, regardless of their gender, age, race, etc. Should the accused not choose any defendant, then those who wish to speak in defense of the accused may step forward."

Harry waited until Kingsley slowly nodded affirmation before continuing. "Also, according to section 8.13 subscript 5, all defendants, no matter who they might be, of the accused criminal have a right to speak in defense of said criminal, and the Wizengamot must hear out the defendant with patience and an open-mind, and bring into due consideration everything that the defendant might say."

Kingsley frowned, but he nodded again in agreement to Harry's recitation of the Magical Code of Conduct. Before Harry could continue again, though, Kingsley interrupted, "You are absolutely correct, Mr. Potter, in the points that you have listed. Unfortunately, the accused does not presently have any defendants to which this may apply, so if that is all you have interrupted this case for, I will have to ask you to kindly step outside for the remaining time while this trial finishes."

Even though Draco could only see the back of Harry, from the way his magic swirled around him Draco could tell that Harry was angry. But when Harry spoke again, it was with a slightly amused tone bound by iron control, which made Draco shiver involuntarily. He would never want Harry as an enemy. "I am afraid you are mistaken, Minister," Harry replied jovially, "Because the accused in this case incidentally _has_ a defendant who is willing to speak on his behalf in this trial, to whom all of the laws that I have stated before apply."

Kingsley's eyebrows rose up in surprise. Looking around, Kingsley asked, "And where might this defendant be, may I ask? I do not see that you have brought anyone with you into the courtroom, Mr. Potter."

Draco could imagine Harry's eyebrows rising as well, though he couldn't see Harry's face. "Why Minister," Harry exclaimed in an astonishingly convincing incredulous tone, "The defendant I am referring to is none other than myself, Harry James Potter. I wish to speak on behalf of the accused criminal, Draco Lucius Malfoy, and I have full right under wizarding law to do so."

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><p>Silence. Absolute silence. Nobody moved, or even breathed, and the shock was almost tangible in the air. Harry stood confidently before the entire Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, head held high and absolutely immobile, with no nervous fidgeting or shuffling that lesser men might have done under the weight of so many eyes. Draco allowed a small smile to grace his features, not caring who saw it there. He was still angry with Harry for leaving that morning, of course, but Draco had to appreciate the effortless control Harry exercised over everybody in the room. Harry probably didn't even know that he did it. Draco now understood why Harry had always had all the attention, even back in Hogwarts when they had been rivals. Draco had always thought that it was because of the scar on his head, but now Draco knew differently. Even without the lightning bolt scar on his head that showed he had saved the Wizarding world, Harry would always dominate over others, always attract the attention and notice that he hated. Because Harry had been born different, to stand above the crowd. Harry had been born to lead.<p>

A scream shattered the silence. "Harry fucking Potter! I found him breaking into _your_ house! Why the _hell_ would you defend the little snake? He's _nothing!"_

All eyes turned to Ginevra Potter, who was standing up in her seat by the dais and pointing a bony finger at Draco. Draco just stared at the Weaslette, eyebrows raised at her outburst. Draco had wanted Harry to somehow make her look bad, as a sort of revenge for kicking him so much, but it seemed as if she was perfectly capable of doing that herself. Draco nearly smirked, but his broken nose gave a twinge of pain, and made his eyes water.

Harry didn't react at all to Ginny's words, adopting an emotionless expression and pointedly looking at her with irritated patience. The rest of the Wizengamot stayed silent as well, staring at her, until Ginny finally realized her mistake and blushed an ugly red that clashed with her robes and hair, quickly sitting down. "May I now begin to state my defense of the accused, Minister?" Harry asked politely, indicating that Ginny's interruption wasn't important enough to be deemed notice. Ginny turned an angry purple color, but stayed silent this time. Draco commended the Weaslette for learning from her mistakes.

Kingsley nodded abruptly, turning back to his papers. "Shall I read for you once more the accusations, Mr. Potter, as you weren't within the chamber when they were first voiced?"

Harry shook his head. "That won't be necessary, Minister. I was engaged just outside the courtroom by the two guards when you read the accusations, and I must say that as I was occupied in trying to gain entrance to the chamber while blocking the two guards from hexing me, I quite accidentally disabled the privacy charms that were set up about the room, and I could hear you very clearly from my position outside the door."

Kingsley nodded again, though this time he sighed as well. "I presume that I will have to get new privacy charms set up around the courtroom," he remarked.

Draco knew that Harry smiled at that. "No, Minister, as I have just disabled the charms, and it will take me a moment to activate them again. As an Auror I have been trained not to rip down any wards, only disable them, as completely destroying wards sometimes activates magical traps and defense mechanisms set in place."

Kingsley's eyebrows rose again in astonishment. "Very well, Mr. Potter. If you would be so kind as to reactivate the wards around this courtroom, you may begin your defense of the accused."

Harry's magic surged out, and he wandlessly activated the wards once more, causing a few members of the Wizengamot to flinch at the power demonstration.

"The first accusation that I wish to defend against is that Draco Lucius Malfoy is accused of breaking and entering a fellow wizard's private home," Harry stated, completely unaware of the members' flinching. Tugging at his hair, which was the first sign of nervousness that Harry had so far displayed, noted Draco, Harry began to pace in front of the dais on which Kingsley sat. This allowed Draco view of Harry's profile, which was deadly serious, his green eyes intense with concentration. "The wizard in question, in this case, myself, has in fact allowed the accused into his private home, and has been accommodating the accused within the house for half a month. The Auror who arrested the accused, Ginevra Molly Potter, was mistaken in thinking that the accused had broken into the house. If you so wished, I permit you to examine my memories within a pensieve, and also to question my house-elf Kreacher, for authentication of my claims."

Harry stopped and looked straight at Kingsley. There was a bit of rustling and whispering as Wizengamot members conferred with each other, before a speaker whispered into Kingsley's ear. "Your offered evidence has been noted, Mr. Potter," Kingsley intoned, "And will be examined further if necessary after your defense. Continue."

Harry nodded, once, before resuming his previous pacing. "The second accusation I wish to defend is the accusation of destroying a fellow wizard's private property. As I have stated before, Draco Lucius Malfoy has been invited into my home on peaceful terms, and I have been accommodating him as a resident within my property of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Thus, I have allowed him to treat the house as he will his own home, and therefore, under the Magical Code of Conduct section 17.4 subscript 9, which states that wizards are permitted to extend any rights to their guests and/or visitors during the course of their stay in relation to their properties and possessions, the accused has not destroyed a fellow wizard's property, since I have previously allowed him full rights to do as he liked in my house as my guest. Should you need evidence of my claims, you may again examine my memories and question my house-elf Kreacher for authentication."

Kingsley nodded. "Continue."

"As to the acquiring of his confiscated wand from the wizard that had won it from him in a fair duel, which, in this case, is also myself, I confess that I had given the accused the wand back to him on my own free will, and the accused has in no way influenced my decision to give him back his wand. Thus, the accused has not actually stolen his wand back, but has been given it under fair and amiable terms. If in need of authentication, you may once again examine my memories, question my house-elf, or even trace the magical signature on the wand to see that it has willingly restored its allegiance to its previous master, before I had won it from him."

Members of the Wizengamot nodded in agreement, and some even smiled tentatively in Draco's direction, whereas before they had been emotionless and even subtly hostile. Draco marveled at how Harry was able to control the very moods of the people around him, with a few simple words that were professional and impersonal. He knew that Harry had to use the detached tone he was currently using to further convince the Wizengamot that he was unbiased in his defense of Draco, but Draco almost longed for Harry to do something, anything, that would show that Harry truly cared about him. But without even a glance in Draco's direction, Harry continued to speak as if he was defending an absolute stranger. Draco could do nothing but look on as Harry continued pacing, gradually convincing the Wizengamot to his tale.

"As for resisting arrest and assaulting an Auror, namely Ginevra Molly Potter, please, members of the Wizengamot, use your eyes and do not be blinded by old hatreds. Look upon the accused, and upon the Auror who claimed that she was assaulted. The accused is evidently injured, which is plain to the naked eye when you look at the bruises and blood that cover his face and body." Draco suddenly self-consciously looked down at himself, fighting off a blush that threatened to spread over his pale features. He was only clothed in the filthy bed sheet, and as the back of his neck prickled from the sensation of having all eyes in the room on him, he suddenly realized how dirty and battered he must look to the impeccably dressed people in the courtroom. He realized how unpleasant he must look to Harry.

Draco felt the blush he had been resisting spread over his face, down his neck and he could even see his chest turn a faint rosy color, where the bruises on his skin didn't mottle it. Draco peeked up through his eyelashes while keeping his head still bowed. He saw that most of the Wizengamot members were smiling, most likely laughing at his reaction. Kingsley was looking amused, and the Weaslette was looking as if her eyes would pop out of her face from how outraged she was. Draco's eyes flicked back to Harry, and he experienced a wave of disappointment as he saw that Harry was the only one in the whole courtroom who wasn't looking in his direction. He was standing completely still, shoulders tense as he stood facing the Wizengamot while they stared at Draco. When an appropriate amount of time had passed and everybody in the room had seen for themselves how injured Draco was, Harry continued to state his defense, without once looking at Draco.

"You see that the accused is clearly injured, while the Auror who claims to have been assaulted clearly is not. Does this not raise your suspicions, members of the Wizengamot? I know it is not my place as a single Auror to question your decisions, but it seems to me as if the accusation of assaulting an Auror does not ring true." Harry continued to speak over the nods and sounds of agreement from the Wizengamot.

"Additionally, pertaining to the charge of resisting arrest, with the claims that I have laid against the previous charges, there was no true reason as to why the accused has been arrested and brought here today. Should any innocent wizard be dragged out of the house where he has been staying as guest and suddenly arrested for no obvious reason, the most common occurrence would be for the innocent wizard to resist arrest, as they are innocent and do not deserve to be taken in by force. Should you need evidence that the accused has not cast any spells intended to harm the Auror who arrested him, I believe that if you trace the magical signature on his wand and reveal the spells that he has cast in the near past, then you will not find any spells that will truly harm the person it is cast at."

There was a flurry of whispers and nods among the members of the Wizengamot, along with smiles and positive expressions. Draco knew then that Harry had won, had convinced the Wizengamot that he was innocent.

Ginny Weasley stood up loudly, her chair scraping across the floor. Nobody took any notice of her, and she flushed at the complete disregard. Clearing her throat didn't help, either, so she finally settled on saying in a loud, shrill voice, "Minister, despite Harry's defense of Malfoy, there still remains the fact that Malfoy broke his previous sentence of being exiled into the Muggle world. He has now reappeared in the Wizarding world, and the breaking of his sentence means punishment must be given."

Smirking smugly at Harry, Ginny sat back down, crossing her legs and trying, but failing, to look as if she had everything under her control. Harry completely ignored her, and continued speaking to Kinsley and the Wizengamot, paying no heed to his wife. Taking a deep breath, Harry looked imploringly at the members of the Wizengamot before him, running his hands nervously through his hair and making the wild locks even more tousled than they previously were. Draco held his breath. He knew that this was the final obstacle, the final argument that Harry had to make.

Harry slowly turned around, so that his back was now facing the Wizengamot and his eyes were locked upon Draco's. It was the first time Harry had looked at Draco since when he first came into the courtroom, and Draco saw within his eyes Harry's true feelings, and how much it was costing him to speak out so confidently in front of so many people. Harry continued to gaze at Draco, seeming to draw comfort and reassurance by looking at the cloudy grey eyes. Harry took another steadying breath, and continued to talk to the Wizengamot behind him while never taking his eyes away from Draco's.

"I realize that the accused has broken his previous sentence that was placed upon him in this very courtroom five years previous. I know that this is most likely the greatest of the charges against the accused, and that it is this that will be the cause of his life sentence to Azkaban. I will be frank with you, members of the Wizengamot, that I have no defense to contradict the breaking of his previous sentence. However, I have only one plea, and one confession, that I beg you to hear."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Please review this chapter! I'm thinking that this chapter was a little on the not-very-good side, and I've never written any court scenes or things to do with the law. Tell me what you think! My confidence level is close to zero right now… Oh, and special thanks to lalalerah for reviewing every single chapter. Thanks! As always, keep reviewing!


	12. Twisted Truths

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling. In this chapter some excerpts are inspired from Harper Lee's novel To Kill A Mockingbird. All original texts are the property of Harper Lee, and I do not own any ideas or views presented in some excerpts of this chapter.

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><p>There was shuffling yet again, and the murmurs this time were uncomfortable, charging the room with anxious unease. Harry's magic swirled around the room, creating a small breeze, exuding a sense of tense control and suppressed anticipation, while Harry held himself rigid in his position, his gaze still locked on Draco's. Draco couldn't breathe. His fingers involuntarily wound themselves around the bars of his cage, gripping the cold iron bars so hard that his hands grew numb, the shackles on his wrists biting deeply into his skin from the way he was straining against his bonds. But Draco hardly registered the pain. He was held captive by those green eyes, and he couldn't stop his descent into blissful green ecstasy. His Harry was defending him, and Draco knew he couldn't ask for a more loyal or powerful defender.<p>

Draco kept his features in a carefully neutral position, but he let his feelings shine through his eyes, knowing that none would recognize them but Harry. Harry in turn smiled again, a beautiful, radiant smile full of tenderness and encouragement. No one but Draco was able to see it, since Harry was faced away from the Wizengamot. Harry's magic rushed in around Draco, flitting over his skin in light caresses, enveloping Draco in the heady scent of newly fallen rain. Draco half-closed his eyes as he felt muscles he didn't even know were tensed relax. His hope blossomed within him, that maybe Harry did feel something for him as well, and the thoughts warmed his heart, causing the shadow of a smile to flit over his controlled features.

Kingsley bent down to hear what the speaker for the Wizengamot whispered to him. Straightening, Kingsley cleared his throat, causing silence to descend upon those gathered in the courtroom. "Harry James Potter, know that your request is highly abnormal, and in different circumstances your actions would be deemed highly offensive, and would be prohibited. However, considering the fact that you have successfully argued against every other charge in defense of the accused, Draco Lucius Malfoy, and that you were the one who had defended him as well in the pertaining sentence from five years previous, the Wizengamot has allowed you leave to proceed."

Harry gave Draco a brief smile of absolute triumph; so fierce in its joy that Draco lost his breath for a second. Turning abruptly back to face the Wizengamot, Harry's voice was loud and reverberated through the hall. "Thank you, members of the Wizengamot."

Harry took a deep breath and cleared his throat softly, as if preparing himself. "As you all know, I am an Auror, and am the only one currently working without a partner, as my best friend, Ron Weasley, was rejected from the Auror Examinations because he failed to properly defend himself during the practical test. I have been an Auror for four years, and I am very good at what I am trained to do, which is to recognize and convict those who violate our wizarding laws."

Draco winced as he heard Harry refer to the Weasley as his best friend, but forced himself to keep still and listen. The Wizengamot members shuffled uneasily, since they hadn't expected Harry to begin his defense by telling them all about his career. Draco was surprised as well, but knew there had to be some sort of relevance, and decided to continue listening.

"Recently, many cases of Dark Magic alerts have been reported, and these cases have been assigned to me by Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, to track down the practitioners of the Dark Magic. I have been doing so for the past couple of weeks, chasing after the users of the Dark Magic and bringing them in for arrest. As you all might have read in the newspapers, recently many women were arrested for Dark Magic use. Those are the ones that I am now referring to."

People nodded knowingly, all having seen the recent front-page news of the influx of witches in Azkaban who were proved to have been practicing Dark Magic, all having been brought to justice by the famous Harry Potter. Draco hadn't known anything about these arrests of the women, but then again, he hadn't read the wizarding news for more than five years. But thinking back, Draco remembered that what Harry was saying now matched with what Harry had said to him before, when he had asked why Harry looked so tired when he finally came back after the two week absence. Now Draco knew what had kept him so busy, since before Harry had only said they were some 'pretty troublesome cases' and didn't elaborate.

"Well, as I was filling out the paperwork for the cases, and questioning the women who I arrested, I noticed a peculiar trend in the criminals. Apart from them all being women, I noticed that they were all the same age, that is, they were all exactly one year younger than I, and, more importantly, through some standard questioning I noticed that they had all attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when they were children for their basic education, and also," Harry paused for a moment, making the members of the Wizengamot lean forwards slightly to hear what he said next, "That they had all been Sorted into Gryffindor."

There was a loud wave of exclamations as Harry revealed this fact. It was widely known that all witches and wizards who went 'bad', as they say, were from Slytherin, and Gryffindors were usually the most upright and law abiding of the four Houses in Hogwarts. "How do we know you aren't lying?" called a Wizengamot member from the back, his tone obviously angry.

Harry raised his eyebrows in his direction. "I apologize if I've offended any of you by this revelation, but I was in Gryffindor as well, if you recall, and I am also deeply shocked by the news. If you think my words are untrue, you can check my claims with the report papers that I submitted, and you can even go so far as to question the criminals themselves, or search them up in the Hogwarts school registry, if you wanted to. I can assure you, I did all these things, and the criminals were definitely attending Hogwarts as Gryffindors." Draco remembered how Harry had said he took two days to fill out the blasted paperwork on the cases he had completed. It made sense that it would take so long, if Harry had to go through all the research to find if the women really were all in Gryffindor.

There was an uneasy muttering from the Wizengamot, but Kingsley nodded, seeming highly interested. "Continue."

Harry tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Noticing this very peculiar trend in the criminals, I took it upon myself to make a list of all the Hogwarts Gryffindor females who were one year below myself. Thus making this list, I found that out of the twenty-seven Gryffindor females that attended Hogwarts in the period from 1992 to 1999, twenty-one had been convicted of practicing Dark Magic, and only six remained innocent. Among these six that remained innocent, four have moved out of Britain to surrounding countries in Europe because of marriage or careers, and only two have remained within Britain. These two women are Romilda Vane, and my ex-wife, Ginevra Weasley."

All eyes turned to the Weaslette, who had been sitting and listening to Harry's account with dawning horror on her face. Now that all attention was on her, the Weaslette stood up quickly and faced the Wizengamot. "You can't believe him," Ginny cried, "He doesn't know what he's saying. Malfoy has put him under an _imperio_! He's being controlled, and that's why he's saying all this nonsense. I didn't do anything-"

"I have not accused you of anything, Ginny," Harry said smoothly over Ginny's hysterical babbling, "Yet, at least. I have merely stated the truths that I have found through my investigations. And I can assure you that I have all of my wits about me, and I am definitely not being controlled by Draco's _imperio. _If you will recall, I am immune to that Unforgivable. Now, if I may continue?"

Kingsley raised a hand to silence the Weaslette's mumbling whines, before nodding again to Harry.

"As you might have already guessed, I was highly interested in this peculiar trend in the criminals, as they were of my old House at Hogwarts, and they were the same age as my ex-wife. Therefore, I did some extra researching into the two people on the list who were still believed to be innocent, and who were still residing within Britain. Of course, as one of the suspects was my wife at the time when I did the researching, I focused most of my resources and time on Ms. Vane. Since this was only extra research due to my curiosity, I didn't dig very deep into their lives, only looked up their occupations and family status. But then another case of Dark Magic popped up that was very similar to those of the women already convicted, and my research efforts intensified, following the lead I had kept."

"Naturally, I first suspected Ms. Vane, as the only other suspect was my wife at the time, and I trusted her implicitly. I dug deeper into the life of Ms. Vane, even going so far as to authorize a search of her apartments, and of her shop that she ran in Diagon Alley. I must admit that I strongly suspected Ms. Vane of being guilty of Dark Magic use, as during my sixth year at Hogwarts she had tried to slip me a love potion, which Ron Weasley accidentally took, leading to the discovery of an attempt on Dumbledore's life through Ron's drinking of poisoned mead and near death, and I held a grudge against her ever since. Finding nothing that was able to reveal any connection to the Dark Magic use, I am ashamed now to admit before all of you that I authorized the use of the Veritaserum on Ms. Vane during questioning, so that I was completely left with no doubt of Ms. Vane's innocence."

Kingsley raised his eyebrows at Harry's admission, which was given freely and in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, but didn't comment. A few members of the Wizengamot chuckled at the failed attempt to slip the famous Harry Potter a love potion.

"So then I was left with no leads on the report of Dark Magic, other than my own wife as a primary suspect. I refused to admit that that there could even be a slight possibility that my wife could have been involved with such a thing, and I didn't even think to research deeper into her life to try and find out the truth. You may accuse me of being lax in my duties as an Auror, but my wife was a fellow Auror as well, and I truly thought I loved her, and I would have trusted her with everything, including my life."

"But then, one night, I went home and I found that my wife was cheating on me with a Quidditch player. Now," Harry said, when some Wizengamot members shuffled uneasily, "Do not worry. I will not bore you or appall you all with tales of my love life. Anyways, I went home and I found my wife cheating on me with a Quidditch player. When they both became aware of my presence, they were both very shocked, to say the least, and the Quidditch player was very embarrassed and he was apologizing a lot, saying he was so sorry and that he didn't mean to have sex with my wife."

Ginny Weasley finally found her voice. "This has no relevance at all to the case," she screeched, pointing one claw at Harry and looking towards Kingsley. "I _demand_ that Harry be forced to stop this at once. This is intruding on my private life and I do not wish for such facts to be revealed-"

"Silence," Kingsley boomed, waving his wand at Ginny and putting her under a silencing charm. Immediately, her voice stopped working, and she choked on her words. "I must admit, I am intrigued as to why you would consider this relevant to your defense, Mr. Potter," Kingsley added, turning back to Harry and ignoring the silently coughing Weaslette on the bench.

"Trust me, it is highly relevant, and all will soon be explained," Harry said with a slight smile. "The Quidditch player, as I said before, was apologizing profusely and saying that he didn't mean to have sex with my wife. This roused my suspicion, since it is not normally what one would say when one is found to have been committing adultery. Usually there would be less apologizing and more fighting, along with a healthy dose of proclamations of love. In no instance would one apologize, and say that they _didn't mean to do it._"

Mumblings of agreement rose within the members, and the Weaslette stared at Harry with open hostility and hate, the silencing charm still in effect upon her, so that she was prevented from saying anything and disrupting the trial again.

"I was beginning to have a very nasty suspicion about my wife, and though I tried to ignore it, my instincts have led me many times to survival where I otherwise would most definitely have died. So, trusting my instincts once again and going against the rationality of my mind, I went back to the Auror offices at the Ministry late on Friday night, and I set up alarms and wards around Ginny Weasley's office that would alert me immediately should any Dark Magic be performed within it. Taking these precautions, I felt complete guilt for not being able to trust my wife, and because I had discovered her cheating on me just that evening, the next day I went to my property of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, not being able to stand living in the same house as her anymore."

"By this time Draco had been living in Grimmauld Place for over two weeks, and we became very close. The following day, I decided to take Draco with me out to Diagon Alley, since I had some shopping I needed to do, and Draco hadn't been outside at all in over two weeks. While we were outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, Ginny Weasley saw us as she was coming out of Knockturn Alley and screamed my name. Having no wish to see her, I Apparated Draco and myself back to my home. However, Ginny Weasley traced my Apparition within minutes, and followed me back to Grimmauld Place. As you all know, it is a very difficult process of tracking an Apparition, and usually requires lots of time and energy, and only highly skilled witches and wizards with a Tracking Permit are able to perform it. As Ginny does not have a Tracking Permit, and did not have enough power or time to have properly tracked my Apparition, I am left with no other options but to believe her guilty of using Dark Magic to trace me, as there are quite a lot of Dark Spells that can quickly and accurately trace an Apparition, as long as you have a piece of the person you want to trace. Since Ginny was my wife, it would be easy for her to obtain something of mine. Also notice that when Ginny Weasley first screamed my name, she was appearing out of Knockturn Alley, an area that has always been highly suspected of Dark affiliations."

Draco gasped with shock, although the sound was lost amidst the tumultuous response by the Wizengamot members. They shouted out loud, exclaimed, screamed, roared, and screeched to be heard over each other, at the revelations that Harry was bringing up before them. Kingsley was also momentarily stunned to silence, but a few minutes and a loud _sonorus _later, along with some banging with his gavel, Kingsley was finally able to restore order and silence to the courtroom. "Is that all, Mr. Potter, or do you have more to add?" Kingsley asked in a weary voice when everyone was listening once again.

"I am afraid I have much more to add, Minister," Harry said respectfully, though there was real regret in his words, as if he didn't want to persecute his ex-wife anymore, but knew he had to in order to defend Draco from her charges. Draco scowled darkly and tightened his grip on the bars of the cage. If only he had his wand, he could just _stupefy_ the whole lot of them and leave with Harry. But Harry wouldn't want that, so Draco had to content himself with imagining all the delicious ways he could torture the Weaslette to death while sitting completely uselessly on his chair of spikes listening as Harry fought to save Draco's life.

"After Ginny followed my Apparition back to Grimmauld Place," Harry continued, "We got into a fight about what had happened on the previous night. Ginny herself told me some facts that I was then unaware of, but which solidified my suspicion that she had something to do with the Dark Magic reports. In her own words, she told me that it took a long time to calm Darryl, the Quidditch player she had been sleeping with, down enough so that he wasn't threatening to call the Aurors on her for rape. This in itself is highly irregular of a person who had been having sex with a married woman, but Ginny told me next that Darryl is now avoiding her. That was when I became firmly convinced that Darryl had not been sleeping with my ex-wife of his own free will, and had in fact been subjected to the Imperius Curse by none other than Ginny Weasley."

Harry waited until the roar of muttering quieted down before resuming, "Now knowing for certain that Ginny Weasley had been using Unforgivable Curses, it took no stretch of the imagination to think that she had been practicing the Dark Arts as well. In fact, with the revelation that Ginny had been practicing Dark Magic, several things that had previously confused me became absolutely clear. The first example is that during my eighth year at Hogwarts, since I missed my seventh year and had to redo one year, Ginny was always dragging me along with her to parties and gatherings in the dorms and showing me off to her friends. I couldn't understand why at the time, but now I see that those friends of hers were all part of their special group, that they had started and learned the Dark Arts together from unknown sources. This proves that Ginny and the convicted criminals have been practicing Dark Magic for over five years now, and that their secret group has only recently been uncovered."

"The second example is that my best friend, Ron Weasley, completely changed after failing his Auror Examinations. I understand that such a blow would naturally result in some changes in the person, but Ron had been off for a while before we had even begun studying for the Exams together. Ron suddenly and mysteriously became bitterer, withdrawn, and overconfident in his power, and during the Practical Exams the Examiner's stunner somehow struck him down. Ron has been my best mate since I was eleven years old, and we survived through the war together. I know that no simple stunner would have been able to get Ron like that, but the Examiner said that he lacked speed. After the failed exam, all of a sudden, the Ron I knew completely changed and disappeared, leaving behind a moody, unpleasant drunkard who does nothing but consume firewhiskey all day, with no heed to what anyone says. This completely baffled me at first, until I realized that these were all withdrawal symptoms of being in constant close contact to the practicing of Dark Magic, and that even my best friend had been victimized by his own sister's illegal pursuits."

"Finally, early this morning, the alarms that I placed around Ginny Weasley's office rang because of the use of Dark Magic in the vicinity by none other than herself. I was awakened from my sleep with a rather loud ringing in my ears from the alarms, though only I could hear them. I was momentarily stunned at what the ringing could be, since I had been, ah, otherwise occupied the previous night," Draco could see from Harry's profile the blush that darkened his bronze skin to a beautiful rosy hue, and Draco smiled at the memory of what exactly had _occupied_ Harry the night before, "But I soon realized that it was from the alarms I placed around Ginny's office, so I hurried over to the Ministry straight away. But when I arrived, I found that Ginny had Disapparated already, so I asked a favor from one of the Trackers to trace Ginny's Apparition. It was traced to Grimmauld Place, and I had been going to Apparate there directly when the Tracker informed me that Ginny had returned to the Ministry, with Draco under arrest. Only I knew of Ginny's dealings with Dark Magic, and I knew that Draco would be convicted of crimes he didn't commit if Ginny was left to run wild."

Harry turned mournful but determined green eyes to his ex-wife, to where she sat livid with rage. "This I realized, and it hurts me deeply to have to do this, but Ginny Weasley, I place you under arrest for the use and practice of the Dark Arts, as violations against wizarding law and placing those around you in danger from your actions."

Ginny, who had been glaring daggers at Harry all the while, since her voice was still silenced, whipped out her wand and pointed it directly at Harry. Kingsley was on his feet immediately; guards who had been stationed around the courtroom jumping into action, but suddenly they were all blown back by a dark aura that suddenly seemed to explode from Ginny. Turning her wand onto herself, Ginny broke the silencing charm on her, and yelled out, "Harry Potter, you understand _nothing. _You think you can arrest _me? _You're power's gotten to your head, Potter. I am more powerful than you. You think that what I'm doing is wrong? Well try to stop me! None of you can do anything! You can't even _touch _me!"

Ginny whirled her wand around her head, causing papers and chairs to be blown around the room, the wind from the darkness around her shrieking in the confined space of the courtroom. The Wizengamot members scattered, most cowering under their desks, since they had never actually been in a real fight before, all having grown up in high-ranking families and had gotten cushy jobs right after leaving school. Kingsley had been knocked off of his dais during the first explosion, and had been hit hard in the head with a chair that Ginny had launched at him, passing out by the foot of his desk. Only a handful of guards and Harry stood against Ginny, against the raging Dark Magic that she controlled.

"Ginny, listen to me," Harry yelled to her, his gaze steady and his hair and robes whipping around from the force of the wind, "You're not in your right mind. The Dark Magic is tainting your thoughts, confusing your judgment. Stop this and listen to me, please, this isn't you right now!"

Ginny cackled wildly, her hair and eyes glowing the color of blood. Looking directly at Harry, Harry saw that Ginny's brown eyes had turned red, burning with the Dark, pulsing magic that surrounded her. Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, for a moment having seen once again the face of Voldemort over the face of his ex-wife. They were completely different, and yet, now, looking at Ginny, their eyes were exactly the same.

"You think that I'm not in my right mind? You think that my magic is a curse? How foolish you are. My magic is not evil. There is no good and evil; there is only power, and those too weak to seek it." Ginny threw back her head and laughed again, the sound revealing her dementia.

Harry blinked in shock from Ginny's words. They were the exact same words that Tom Riddle had said to him, long ago. Harry set his shoulders, taking a deep breath. Ginny had to be stopped, at any cost.

Harry drew out his wand, something he hadn't used in a long time. He was perfectly proficient with wandless magic, and without a wand he was just as capable and powerful as any regular wizard with a wand. But with his own wand in his hand, Harry was able to fully control all of his magic, including all of the magic that was been his but had been stolen from him by Voldemort's horcrux to increase Voldemort's own powers, so that the spells he cast were nearly invincible in their sheer power.

The first thing Harry did was cast a _protegro maxima _around the cage that still held Draco captive. Draco felt the wind from the darkness around Ginny suddenly stop around him, so that everything gained a dreamy and muffled quality as Draco looked on the fight from his prison. Draco bit his lip so hard it bled from the force of his need to join Harry in fighting against the Weaslette, but he knew that he would only be a hindrance. Draco vowed that as soon as he got out of his prison he would make sure Harry was ok, damn the consequences of appearing too close.

Harry dragged his attention back to his ex-wife, after making sure that Draco was secure in the cage that held the criminals. Ginny shot a curse at him, the color a bright green. The color of an Avada Kedavra Curse_._ Harry knew Ginny was serious, so he dodged the curse, not bothering to waste time defending against it. "_Expelliarmus," _Harry shouted.

Ginny easily deflected it, before shooting a Crucio at Harry, who spun out of the way, hexes and curses flying out of the end of his wand. Ginny was able to deflect them all, but her attention was so absorbed in deflecting the multitude of spells aimed at her that she failed to notice Harry getting closer to where Kingsley lay, still unconscious from being hit in the head with a chair.

Ginny was finally able to cast a curse at Harry during an interlude in the bombardment of hexes that he had been sending her, and Harry ducked down, rolling behind Kingsley's desk for cover.

"Scared, Potter?" Ginny asked smugly, her voice cracking with insanity, "You should be. Finally realized my power, hmm? Thought you could just ignore me and quietly divorce me, just like that? Well, I won't be gone so easily. Soon, you will bow down before me, Harry Potter, and you will regret the day you ever thought lightly of me!"

"_Reducto_," Ginny screamed, causing Kingsley's desk to explode into splinters. Draco gasped. Harry was behind that desk; he would have been seriously hurt in the explosion. But when the dust cleared, Harry was nowhere to be seen. "What?" screeched Ginny in shock, her red eyes blazing with fury.

"Ginny, I'm sorry." Harry's voice came from right behind Ginny, and Ginny whirled around to see Harry staring sadly into her eyes. "I never thought that you would become something like this. What would Molly and Arthur think?"

Ginny scowled, before raising her wand once more. "Who cares? They'll never understand, just like you'll never understand either. You are nothing but trash, believing in your fairy tales of love. See if your love will protect you from this, Harry Potter. _Avada Kedavra!"_

"_No!" _Draco shouted out, throwing himself against the bars of his cage, not caring about the spikes that stabbed into his body, but the ward around him prevented him from being heard.

Ginny cast the curse at the same time that Harry shouted out, "_Expelliarmus."_ The beams from the two spells met in midair, and the connected light fought for dominance over whose spell would be victorious. Harry was consumed with an ominous feeling of déjà vu, the situation reminding him a lot of his final confrontation with Voldemort. Except this time, it wasn't some crazy maniac he was facing. It was Ginny Weasley, who had been his wife, his friend, his best friend's sister, his fellow Gryffindor, and a part of the family he never had.

Looking sadly at the form of his ex-wife, Harry raised his other hand, which had been hiding Kingsley Shacklebolt's wand. He had picked it up from the ground where Kingsley had dropped it when he had rolled behind Kingsley's desk, and had hidden it from Ginny's sight. He was now armed with two wands, one in each hand, while Ginny was left with only one, her wand busy trying to overpower Harry's disarming charm. Ginny's eyes widened as she saw what Harry held in his hand, though she couldn't do anything about it, since her wand was connected with Harry's own through their warring spells.

Harry smiled mournfully at her. "I truly did love you, Ginny Weasley. I'm sorry." Harry whispered _incarcerous _to the wand he held in his left hand. Ropes immediately appeared around Ginny, breaking off her killing curse that she was still aiming at Harry. Harry's disarming charm hit her square in the chest, her wand sailing through the air, and Harry neatly snatched it into his hand. Ginny glared at Harry through her red eyes, madness shining through them. With a flick of his hand, Harry cast a wordless _stupefy._ Ginny fell down to the floor of the trial chamber, her eyes closing as she fell into unconsciousness.

As Ginny fell, the darkness that had been swirling around the room and casting the courtroom into gloom suddenly lifted, and the room regained its brightness, the magical lights that were fixed to the ceiling relighting themselves as the Dark magical interference disappeared. Harry looked down at Ginny, who lay bound and unconscious at his feet. She looked so small, and frail, and with her eyes closed it was almost impossible to believe she could have done all that she did.

There were exclamations and sighs as the members of the Wizengamot cautiously emerged from where they had been hiding under their desks. Kingsley groaned as well, finally regaining consciousness. Eyeing the mess around him, and the girl at Harry's feet, Kingsley raised his eyebrows in Harry's direction. "I believe that everything you have told us is the truth, Harry. It seems that Ms. Weasley just revealed herself far more than any evidence against her could have done."

Harry gave Kingsley a sad little smile. "I suppose so, Minister."

Kingsley chuckled softly. "Come now, Harry. You just defeated another possible Dark Lord. You can put away all the formalities for now. I doubt anyone would mind, seeing as you most likely saved the world from another Voldemort."

Harry sighed, and then looked Kingsley straight in the eyes as Kingsley stood up. "Minister, these facts and circumstances surrounding the trial of Draco Malfoy, have now been revealed to you, and the members of the Wizengamot, through my confession. I ask you now, will you listen to my plea?"

Kingsley regained his somber attitude. "Certainly, Harry. Now, where is my wand?"

Harry handed the Minister his wand. Kingsley looked surprised, but refrained from asking how Harry had ended up with his wand in his hand. "Come, Harry, help me repair all this damage that Ms. Weasley did on the courtroom, and then, after the Wizengamot members have settled down, we'll resume the hearing."

Harry nodded, putting his own wand away and wandlessly helping to repair the room. Harry only used his wand when things became urgent, or else the magic he performed became too powerful to be practical in daily life. Walking quickly over to where Draco sat in his cage, Harry waved a hand and dispelled the ward he had erected around him.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again, Harry," Draco hissed out as soon as he was sure Harry could hear him again, "If you have time to set up a ward to _protect _me, then you might as well let me _out _of this fucking cage so I can help, instead of making me _watch _as you risk your life all over again with you goddamn hero complex."

Harry smiled brightly at Draco. "Were you worried?"

Draco felt his face heat up and immediately looked away, sticking up his nose and assuming a haughty expression. "Worried? About you? You wish. I was merely concerned that my only defense would suddenly _die_ from being killed by some crazy lunatic bint."

Harry reached a hand through the bars and gently stroked Draco's face with the tips of his fingers, the caress so light it felt almost insubstantial. "I'm glad you're safe, though," Harry murmured, before smiling so softly that Draco felt his anger melt away.

"Do I look like I need to be protected by _you, _Harry?" Draco sneered, though the comment held no venom at all.

Harry raised his eyebrows and raked his eyes over Draco's body. Draco felt himself heat up again as he noticed his filthy and half-dressed state, and what Harry must think. But Harry only smiled again at Draco, giving his face one last caress before withdrawing his hand. "Yes, you do look like you need to be protected. Otherwise you'll end up arrested and naked all the time in front of the Wizengamot if I'm not there."

Draco snorted, but couldn't help but smile as Harry walked back to the area he had previously occupied in front of Kingsley's desk. The Wizengamot members were almost all settled down again, with only a few mutters and whispers going around.

"Harry Potter. The Wizengamot has heard your confession. Now please state your plea," Kingsley ordered, his voice serious and ringing through the chamber, causing the last of the whispers to die away and absolute silence to reign once more.

Harry looked up defiantly from his position in front of Kingsley's raised dais. "You have witnessed for yourself how an Auror, my wife, who was believed to be purely good and Light, could have turned to Darkness. I now ask you, Minister and members of the Wizengamot, to believe that one who had previously been held captive by the Dark could break free of his shackles and return to the Light. I ask you to discard your previous prejudices, and to view this case without bias or discrimination. I ask you to look upon Draco Malfoy and decide for yourselves whether he truly is deserving of such a punishment as to be sentenced to life in Azkaban."

There were mumbles of dissatisfaction from the Wizengamot, and Harry continued, a tone of urgency creeping into his voice, "I'm no idealist to believe firmly in the integrity of our courts and in the wizarding laws—that is no ideal to me, it is a living, working reality as an Auror. My job is to bring those who violate our laws to justice, so that our courts may judge them impartially. Minister and members of the Wizengamot, a court is no better than each man of you sitting before me to judge this man. A court is only as sound as its judgment, and a judgment is only sound when the men who make it are clear in their minds and hearts. I know that out there, in the Wizarding and Muggle world, not everyone is treated equally. Former Death Eaters that had defected from the Dark side before the war are still being discriminated against, and those who fought on the side of the Light are still being given undue attention."

When the Wizengamot members still stared disapprovingly down at Harry, Draco got the sinking feeling of certainty that they wouldn't agree, and that he would still be sentenced to Azkaban, despite everything Harry had tried to do to prevent it. Apparently Harry noticed the same thing, because his magic swirled restlessly around him. Harry took off his outer crimson Auror robes and vanished them into the air, so that he was standing before the Wizengamot in his crisp white shirt and black slacks, looking incredibly vulnerable without the vibrant color of his robes. Harry drew out his wand from his sleeve and threw it to the side, where it clattered along the floor before rolling against the wall. His dark hair contrasted starkly with the white shirt, and his emerald green eyes shone with barely concealed desperation. Opening his arms wide, Harry addressed his words to the entire chamber.

"But there is one place in our world where a wizard may be certain that he will be treated as his due; there is one magical institution that makes a Squib the equal of a Merlin, the Dark Lord the equal of one from the Light, and the witch the equal of any wizard. That institution, my fellow wizards, is a court, as they are judged before the Minister of Magic and the Wizengamot. Therefore I implore you to look upon this man as nothing but one that had been forced to do things he hadn't wished to do in the past. I give you my word that he is innocent of any deeds that he may have been accused of before. Yes, he is a former Death Eater, but through my personal experiences I can guarantee that Draco has not ever killed anyone before, and that he has been forced under threat to his family to do the deeds he has done. He has done nothing wrong upon his return to the wizarding world two weeks ago, and has behaved like a proper, upstanding wizard of our community. And thus I beseech you, please, I lay my pride, my magic, and my name down before me and I _beg_ you, to spare this innocent man."

Draco felt silent tears track their way down his cheeks. He couldn't stop them, even if he wanted to, and they dripped down onto his lap, wetting the dirty bed sheet he wore draped around his waist. Draco couldn't move, his hands clenched so tightly around the bars that he could feel blood welling from the cuts that the spikes in the uneven metal created. Harry was discarding everything, everything that made him who he was; his pride, his dignity, his power, his fame, even his very name, so that there might be a chance for Draco to live free.

Harry's plea was met with silence. When Harry bowed slightly and took a step back, Kingsley cleared his throat. "All in favor of pressing charges?"

Several hands were raised, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, but by the time they were all up it was less than a dozen out of the fifty members of the Wizengamot. Nodding slightly, Kingsley asked again, "All in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?"

This time, most of the hands went up. Silently and slowly, but the hands went up nonetheless, one by one. Kingsley himself raised his own hand, in favor of clearing all charges. Finally, when all the hands were raised, Draco nearly sobbed out loud with relief. There were more than forty hands raised, obviously a bigger number than those who had voted for his imprisonment. Harry sighed softly with relief. Kingsley himself seemed satisfied as he picked up his gavel once again, preparing to bring it down. This time, nothing stopped him, and the gavel made a crack that rang throughout the courtroom.

"Cleared of all charges," Kingsley announced, his deep voice ringing with something that sounded a lot like happiness.

Waving a hand, Kingsley conjured the keys for both Draco's cage and his shackles. "Harry, I believe you should get to do the honors," Kingsley said, before levitating the keys over to where Harry stood.

Pure joy lit up Harry's face and he ran over to where Draco was still held, his green eyes alight with elation at his complete victory. After fumbling with the keys, Harry was finally able to unlock the cage that had confined Draco. Draco's shoulders shook with silent sobs of relief, and the tears just wouldn't stop flowing. Draco stepped hesitantly out of his prison, feeling strangely vulnerable in front of Harry after having Harry do so much for him. But before Draco could do so much as look up into Harry's eyes, he was enveloped with warmth as Harry's arms wound around him, holding him tightly and offering comfort and support.

Harry's soft lips brushed against Draco's, and Draco moaned into the kiss, his shackled hands going around Harry's neck to press him closer. Draco was surrounded by the scent of rain, and Harry's magic pulsed with happiness. Melting into their kiss, any doubts or worries fled from Draco's mind as he let himself relax at last in Harry's arms.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Long chapter this time… Hope everybody liked the twist in the plot. Everything is finally explained, what with Harry's mysterious disappearance. I'm really really sorry about the Ginny bashing for those who like Ginny, but surprisingly a lot of the people who reviewed said they didn't mind. Seems she's not that popular… I tried to make everything tie up with the stuff that was said in the other chapters, since when I was writing the previous chapters I had no idea that Ginny would eventually become a Dark Lord type character, so I didn't have a lot to work with. If you see something that doesn't match the information from the previous chapters, please review and tell me! There will probably be one more chapter coming up as a sort of epilogue. Thanks for staying with me on my first fic. Comments and criticisms are appreciated. As always, keep reviewing! :P


	13. Forever and Always

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

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><p>Draco heard loud exclamations of surprise from the members of the Wizengamot as they noticed what Harry was doing, and Draco felt the weight of fifty pairs of eyes on him as the Savior of the Wizarding World snogged him ferociously while he was just barely out of the criminal's cage. The surprise and curiosity was almost palpable as it increased with each passing second. "Harry, people are looking," Draco mumbled against his lips.<p>

Draco could feel Harry's mouth twist into a grin beneath his own. "Let them look," Harry whispered back, sucking lightly on Draco's lower lip, "Who cares what those old geezers think."

Draco laughed at that, though the sound was swallowed by Harry's mouth. Only when Draco felt light-headed and about to collapse did he finally withdraw a bit from the kiss, gasping for breath and clutching Harry's now rumpled white shirt for support. Harry looked up mischievously, his green eyes twinkling with mirth and a hint of desire.

Trying to regain his wits in his fuzzily buzzing brain, Draco asked in a breathless voice, "What about what all the newspapers would say? Don't you hate it when they talk about you?"

Harry thought for a moment, and then shrugged nonchalantly. "Who cares what the papers say. Besides, they can do nothing but guess at the truth, anyways. Who would believe it when the wizarding world's precious savior turns out to be gay?"

Draco smiled at that, though he was a bit disappointed when Harry didn't continue the kiss, and instead withdrew his arms that had been wrapped around Draco's waist. Draco shivered involuntarily at the loss of the warm arms around him, the cool air chilling his skin where they had been.

Seeing the shiver, Harry's eyes immediately darkened with concern and he waved his hands over Draco, conjuring a thick, warm blanket around his shoulders. Draco wrapped the blanket around him with relief, finally able to cover himself against the nosy eyes of the Wizengamot members, who were still staring slack-jawed at Harry and himself. Harry gently gathered Draco's hands in his own, and using the second key that Kingsley had given him, unlocked the shackles that held Draco's wrists.

They clanked open and fell to the floor, chinking as the chains bounced over the smooth marble. Draco tried to pull his hands back as soon as he was free, but Harry held them firmly in his grip, his eyes staring at where the shackles used to be. Draco slowly looked down as well, reluctant to see what he had done to himself.

Draco's wrists were a mess of blood and torn skin, some fresh blood dripping down to splatter on the ground from the sudden release of the shackles. Harry's eyes were filled with horror. "Draco," he whispered, releasing one of his hands from Draco's and hovering his fingers just over Draco's cuts on his right arm, "Why did you do this to yourself?"

Draco looked away from Harry's gaze, unable to meet his eyes. "It just happened. Why should you care?" he said stubbornly, trying to pull his hands back. But Harry's grip was inescapable.

Looking back into Harry's face, Draco immediately regretted his words when he saw the hurt that shone in the depths of the glittering eyes. "Of course I would care, Draco," Harry said simply, before lowering his fingers and running them lightly over the gashes on Draco's smooth pale skin. Draco sucked in a breath at the expected pain from having Harry touch his wounded skin, but surprisingly all he felt was a warm tingling sensation surround the areas where Harry's fingers brushed. Looking closer at his wrists, Draco saw that everywhere Harry ran his fingers the torn skin was slowly healing itself, until it was smooth and unblemished once more, showing no sign that it had ever been broken. Draco gasped as Harry finished healing all the wounds on his right wrist, the throbbing pain from the cuts vanishing immediately.

When Harry raised Draco's left arm and turned his wrist so that he could heal it as well, Draco snatched his hand back, breaking free of Harry's grip, which had loosened. Cradling the arm against his chest, Draco shook his head at Harry, panic in his eyes. He didn't want Harry to see. He didn't want Harry to be reminded of his past, but most of all, he was afraid of what Harry might think. Looking steadily at Draco, Harry slowly stretched out his hand again, stopping just before he touched Draco, waiting for Draco to accept his help. Harry's eyes shone with sincerity and tenderness, and nothing else.

After a few tense moments, Draco extended his arm back out, so that Harry's fingers curled around his own, Harry's other hand going back to trace his fingers over the cuts on Draco's wrist. Draco closed his eyes and looked away, not wanting to see Harry's expression when Harry had to heal the skin over the Dark Mark that was still permanently etched into his flesh. The hideous skull with a snake slithering out of its jaws was bound to remind Harry of all the things he had had to suffer, all the deaths he had had to witness, because of the acts of the man Draco had once served.

When Harry finished healing his wrist, Draco felt Harry's fingers as they paused right over the patch of skin where Draco knew his Dark Mark to be. Stealing a quick glance over to Harry, Draco was shocked to see that Harry was looking right at him, his hand running smooth circles around the Mark on his wrist. Draco was about to look away again when Harry slowly raised his wrist, which he held firmly in his hand. Bending down slightly, Harry placed a soft kiss right over the Mark that had haunted Draco for most of his life, Harry's burning green gaze never leaving Draco's, unwavering as Harry kissed the brand of the Dark Lord.

Draco's breath caught in his throat. Lowering his eyes, Draco stopped struggling in Harry's grip, his tears, which had stopped, resuming their flow down his face. "Shhh," Harry shushed Draco, letting Draco's arm fall limply to his side and raising both hands to wipe the tears from Draco's cheeks. "It's alright, Draco. Everything's alright now." Harry folded Draco's limp body to his own, wrapping Draco once more in his strong arms, the heat from Harry's skin seeping through the blanket around Draco's shoulders so that Draco was surrounded by Harry's warmth, the scent of rain lingering over them both.

Relaxing into the embrace, Draco sighed as Harry's magic brushed lightly over his face. "Aren't you angry?" he asked in a small voice, his arms going automatically around Harry's neck, his face resting on his shoulder.

Harry chuckled. "Angry? Why should I be? I know that it's not your fault. What's done is done, and nothing I do will change the past, anyways."

Draco raised his eyes and gently ran a hand over Harry's cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Harry smiled softly and brushed the last of the tears away. "There's nothing to apologize for."

A discreet cough sounded from behind Harry. Turning, with Draco still in his arms, Harry faced the person. Draco saw that it was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic himself.

"Yes, Minister?" Harry asked politely, not letting go of Draco, even when Draco tried to pull out of their embrace.

Through his darkly toned skin, Draco could almost have sworn that the Minister was blushing. "Well, Harry, as the trial is finished, Mr. Malfoy here is completely free, cleared of all charges. I offer my congratulations. So if you could, um, express your mutual delight at the results of the trial in a more, ah, _private _setting, it would be much appreciated." Kingsley was looking everywhere but at Harry and Draco, fidgeting slightly with his robes.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I'm sorry, Minister. I didn't realize we were disturbing you or the members of the Wizengamot with our actions." Draco looked up at Harry, and saw the shadow of a grin over his lips, his green eyes glinting with mischievousness. Draco just had to smile at the completely sneaky expression on Harry's face.

Kingsley looked even more uncomfortable. Clearing his throat again loudly, he said without meeting Harry's direct gaze, "Harry, to tell you the truth, I rather think that some members of the Wizengamot are enjoying your reunion a bit _more _that what's proper, if you get my meaning. In order to avoid any unnecessary, uh, _events, _I would ask you to please take Mr. Malfoy somewhere else before you, ah, proceed any further in your _actions._"

Harry snickered at the Minister's discomfort, before replying politely, "Of course, Minister. I do believe the newspapers are going to have a field day with this. I seem to remember that Rita Skeeter always loved any scandals involving me, the precious Hero."

Kingsley seemed to regain some of his confidence as the conversation moved away from _personal _topics. "Ah yes, I remember those articles Ms. Skeeter printed about you as well, while you were still in school, even. I can assure you, Harry that Ms. Skeeter is no longer employed by the Daily Prophet, and is instead working as an author of magical novels, so she will not be able to print any more gossip pages about you. Her books are actually quite popular among the witches, since Ms. Skeeter has a rather _vivid_ imagination, which she puts to good use in her stories."

Harry grinned, and Kingsley allowed a brief smile to grace his features. "I'll give you the rest of the day off, Harry. You deserve that, having just saved a man from life imprisonment in Azkaban and defeated a Dark Magic user all in one day. Besides, I think that those cases you were working on about Dark Magic reports have all been solved, anyways. And Mr. Malfoy here looks like he needs some rest and recuperation from the ordeal he just went through."

Harry nodded in agreement, his arms tightening around Draco. "Thank you, Minister," he said.

Kingsley waved away his thanks. "Don't worry about it, Harry. And there's no need to call me Minister all the time. We fought together during the War against Voldemort. You can call me Kingsley when we're just talking, although I'm afraid you'll have to address me as Minister during official meetings, or else the Wizengamot members and politicians in the Ministry will swamp you alive with your familiarity with me. Although I suspect that they do that anyways."

Harry laughed. "You have no idea, Kingsley. Good day."

Kingsley nodded, and Harry wandlessly summoned his wand over to him, from where it had rolled against the wall when he had thrown it aside earlier. Plucking the wand from the air, Harry gave Kingsley a little salute, before Disapparating out of the courtroom and back to his home in Grimmauld Place, Draco going through with him using Side-Along.

Once the courtroom had disappeared and Harry and Draco were both in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place once more, Harry removed his arms from around Draco's waist. Smiling down at Draco, Harry asked, "Well, that was an eventful morning, don't you think?"

Draco snorted at the understatement. Harry cocked his head to the side, as if something had just occurred to him. Snapping his fingers in the air to summon his house elf, Kreacher immediately appeared, bowing and looking up at Harry with wide eyes. "What does Master Harry be wanting, sir?"

Harry bent down and looked Kreacher in the eyes, frowning. "Kreacher, this morning Draco was abducted from this house by Ginny Weasley. Did you know about this?"

Kreacher nodded, his large ears flapping around his head. "Yes, Master Harry, Kreacher knew of it."

Harry continued to gaze seriously into Kreacher's eyes. "Kreacher, why didn't you try to help Draco, to stop him from being taken?"

Kreacher knotted his hands together, his squeaky voice going even higher as he became nervous in the interrogation. "Kreacher is very sorry, Master Harry, Kreacher tried to help Master Draco. Kreacher really did. Kreacher did all the magic he could think of. But Kreacher was held by a strange darkness, Master Harry, and Kreacher's magic wouldn't work when he used it. Kreacher is sorry, Master Harry. Kreacher will punish himself now, for being unable to help."

When Kreacher reached over to slam his head into the wall, Harry gently stopped the house elf. Smiling, Harry patted Kreacher's head. "Don't worry, Kreacher. I thought that Ginny would do something like that, but I had to make sure that you tried. Thank you, Kreacher, for trying to save Draco when Ginny came. It's not your fault that Ginny put a curse on you while she took Draco."

Draco smiled as the house elf looked up at Harry, his eyes filled with unconditional loyalty. Harry really had a way with house elves, making them completely loyal without any effort at all. Draco supposed that it was because Harry was just so innately kind that the house elves, who normally were treated as nothing, felt like they were finally being appreciated.

"So Master Harry is not angry at Kreacher?" the house elf asked tentatively.

Harry shook his head. "Of course not, Kreacher. I was just making sure."

Nodding, Kreacher disappeared with a pop after asking Harry if he needed anything else. Standing up and turning back to Draco, Harry held out his hand. "How about we change out of that bed sheet and take a bath, hmm? Then you can sleep for a while, and I'll call you for dinner. You must be exhausted from what you had to go through."

Draco laughed, crossing his arms. "What did I do? I sat in a cage while _you _were the one who had to convince an entire Wizengamot to change everything they believed in and also defeat another Dark Magic user to bring her to justice. Compared to what _you _did, I might as well have been napping this whole time."

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed Draco, lifting him up in his arms. Draco dropped the blanket around his shoulders to the ground with the sudden movement, so that he was only covered with the bed sheet around his waist. When Draco yelled in surprise, his arms going automatically around Harry's neck, Harry laughed and proceeded to walk up the stairs to the bathroom.

"Harry, put me down," Draco ordered severely, still clinging tightly to Harry's neck.

Harry grinned at him. "Well, since you took too long to start walking, I thought that I might as well carry you to the bathroom."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'll walk, ok? Now put me down. I'm _heavy._"

"No you aren't. I swear, you're too thin for your own good. Have you been eating properly?"

"Of course I have," Draco said indignantly, "And besides, you're sounding like a Hufflepuff."

"You're the one who squealed when I picked you up," Harry reminded.

"I did _not _squeal. I was just momentarily caught off guard from the sudden inappropriate gesture of you picking me up."

"But you seem to be enjoying being carried by me," Harry commented idly.

Draco slapped Harry on the shoulder, though he was smiling. "I _can_ walk by myself you know."

By this time they had reached the bathroom. Entering, Harry wandlessly filled the bath with water that was at just the right temperature. Holding Draco over the tub, Harry unceremoniously dropped Draco into the water, bed sheet and all.

The bathtub was magically charmed so that no water could overflow, so when Draco fell in Harry didn't get wet in the least. Spluttering and choking on the water, Draco glared up at Harry. "What did you do that for?" Draco asked, his voice the epitome of disgruntled dignity.

Harry laughed again, that absolutely carefree, deep sound that Draco loved. "I just had to do that. I'm sorry Draco, but your face looked priceless just then. You should have seen yourself. "

Still glaring, Draco suddenly grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him down sharply. Losing his balance, Harry's eyes widened as Draco pulled him over, falling into the tub face first and still fully clothed with a big splash. Coming up gasping for air, and choking, Harry laughed again, running his hand through his hair.

Draco smirked at Harry, whose raven hair still wasn't tamed, even while sopping wet. "Now we're even," Draco said in a self-satisfied tone.

"I'll get you for that, Draco," Harry said, grinning.

After their bath together, which was more eventful than what either of them had originally planned, Harry led Draco to his bedroom so Draco could rest. Harry snapped his fingers and clothed Draco in a set of incredibly comfortable pajamas, while he dressed himself in slacks and a jumper. Walking over to the bed, Harry tucked Draco in and gently kissed him on the forehead. "I'll call you for dinner, Draco," Harry whispered with a small smile.

When Harry turned to leave, Draco looked up in panic and reached out, grabbing the back edge of his jumper to stop him. Harry was pulled back rather sharply when Draco grabbed his jumper, staggering a few steps backwards. Harry turned to look at Draco, a questioning look in his eyes.

Draco looked away quickly, blushing, but held on to the jumper. "Can you stay with me?" he asked softly.

Harry smiled tenderly and sighed. Smoothing out Draco's white blond hair, Harry asked softly, "What am I going to do with you, Draco?"

Draco shrugged, muttering, "Well, you don't have to-" but Harry was already climbing into the other side of the bed beside Draco.

Harry lay down on top of the bed sheets and continued to gently stroke Draco's hair. Looking into Draco's silvery grey eyes, Harry relaxed next to Draco. "It's ok, Draco. I promise everything is fine now. You're safe," Harry murmured.

Draco snuggled in against Harry, smiling as Harry's arms wound around him, holding him tightly. Looking up at Harry, whose eyes were filled with that unidentifiable emotion that Draco had noticed the previous night, Draco took a deep breath. He had to ask. He had to know the answer.

"Why?" Draco managed to whisper, his voice muffled as he hid his face against Harry's neck. It was just one little word, but it meant so much more. Draco held his breath as he waited for Harry's answer, knowing that Harry would understand the true meaning of his question.

Suddenly, Draco felt Harry's chest vibrate against him as Harry chuckled, before kissing Draco softly on his forehead. "That's the same question I asked you last night, Draco. And you said that you loved me. Is that still true? Even after I left you so horribly alone this morning?" Regret was evident in Harry's voice, as well as apology.

Draco kept his face hidden, but he nodded silently in affirmation, his arms tightening against Harry's neck.

Draco felt Harry's shoulders relax somewhat, and the ends of Harry's tousled hair tickled his cheek on the pillow that they shared. Harry lowered his head so that his cheek rested against Draco's hair. "Well, you're going to think this is horribly Gryffindor-like of me, but somehow, for a whole bunch of incredibly stupid reasons, I suppose I love you too, Draco."

At first Draco thought he hadn't heard right. There was a ringing in his ears, and Draco felt himself go weak. Hiding his face deeper into the hollow between Harry's neck and shoulder, Draco tried to hide his burning face as he blushed harder than he had ever remembered doing before. A completely ridiculous smile was spread across his features, but with his face hidden, Draco didn't care, since nobody could see him smiling like a lovesick fool anyways. Draco felt lighter than he ever had before, buoyed up by happiness and Harry's words. It was the first time since his mother had been locked away in Azkaban that somebody had told him that he was wanted, that he was loved. And it felt absolutely amazing.

"Hey, Draco, don't fall asleep on me here," Harry muttered, laughter in his tone. Draco slapped Harry on his shoulder, though he managed to take a deep breath and steady his tingling nerves. Lifting his face up, Draco saw that a blush also brightened Harry's face, his bronze skin rosy as Harry looked at Draco through half lowered lashes. Smiling openly at how delicious Harry looked, with a blush darkening his skin and his black lashes fringing his vibrant green eyes, Draco grabbed Harry by the collar of his jumper and pulled him down for a kiss. Harry was more than willing, his arms around Draco pulling him closer until they were pressed together on the bed.

When they were both gasping for breath did they pull apart. "Draco, what part of resting do you not understand? You're supposed to be sleeping right now, not snogging me in bed," Harry whispered hoarsely, though his eyes shone with that tender expression that Draco had been unable to identify before, but now knew were his true feelings.

Draco rolled his eyes with fake annoyance. "Fine, fine, I'll sleep, if it makes you that happy."

"Good," Harry huffed, his eyes closing as his breath evened out.

Draco closed his eyes as well and curled up next to Harry, enjoying the warmth that radiated out of the dark haired man. Draco really was tired, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it to Harry. He had been experiencing extreme emotional turmoil for the better part of that day, which hadn't been helped at all by the fact that Harry had gone off risking his life again for him and he had been unable to do anything but watch.

Sighing and pushing the thoughts away, Draco became drowsy and drifted closer to the edge of sleep. Just before he fell over the edge, though, Draco roused himself to mumble softly into Harry's neck, "Will you be here when I wake up?"

Harry smiled, though kept his eyes closed. "I promise, Draco," he whispered back, voice ringing with finality.

Satisfied, Draco smiled as well and closed his eyes once more. Letting the peace flow through him, Draco felt safe as he lay in Harry's arms, with the promise that Harry would still be there when he woke up. It was more than Draco could have ever dreamed of getting, more than what Draco felt he deserved. But as he lay together with Harry, the man he had somehow fallen in love with and who astonishingly also loved him back, Draco knew he wouldn't have changed a thing in his previously horrible life, since they had all led up to this one precious moment.

Draco drifted gently off to sleep with a smile on his face. He knew that his life would never be easy, and he hadn't ever expected much. But Harry had given him a new hope, a second chance at happiness. For the first time in a very long time, Draco looked forward to what his future might hold, confident that he wouldn't have to be alone, and that Harry would be walking by his side. He knew that no matter what happened, Harry would always be there. Forever and always.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Hope everybody liked the ending! I tried to wrap it up as best as I could. If anyone thinks the ending is too cheesy, then please tell me. As always, please review!


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